


My Sweet Prince

by nonbinaryspock



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Past Drug Use, Scriddler, Trans Character, asylum antics, established relationship but it's complicated, some fluff I guess, trans riddler, usually i hc the riddler as trans and jewish bc i can
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-10
Updated: 2017-10-11
Packaged: 2018-12-13 20:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 40
Words: 20,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11767797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonbinaryspock/pseuds/nonbinaryspock
Summary: The door slides open and an orderly pushes a clearly disgruntled Jonathan into the cell with Edward. “New cellmate, Nygma,” the orderly says. “Maybe you can actually keep this one.”Title is taken from a Placebo song





	1. Chapter 1

Edward glances up from the book he’d been reading, annoyed by the sudden commotion coming from the surrounding cells. Must be a new or, more likely, returning inmate. He sighs, trying to block out the noise enough to continue reading. The lock on his cell door clicks and he shoves the book underneath his pillow, flopping back against the uncomfortable mattress.

The door slides open and an orderly pushes a clearly disgruntled Jonathan into the cell with Edward. “New cellmate, Nygma,” the orderly says. “Maybe you can actually keep this one.” He closes the door without another word, locking it behind him.

Edward sits up. “You’re back,” he says, trying not to sound too pleased.

“I am.” Jonathan sits down on the other bed, facing Edward. “Long time,” he says.

“Too long.” He can’t help but grin. “They tried to put me with Valentin while you were away.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Pyg?”

“Mhm. He’s _unbelievably_ irritating. But I told one of the guards that he was hiding contraband so they put him in solitary for a little while.”

“What was he hiding?”

He shrugs. “I may or may not have planted a sharp object underneath his mattress.”

“Ah.”

“After that they put me with Tockman,” he continues. “But then they declared him sane and let him out, so I’ve had the cell all to myself for a week or two.”

“Lucky you.”

“But now you’re back,” he says brightly. “Not that I’m glad either of us are stuck in this hellhole, but at least now I have some decent company.” He scoots to the edge of the bed, leaning forward a little. “What about you, what’ve you been up to? Same old mad scientist antics, I presume?”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “I’m not a mad scientist.”

“Of course you are. How’s the toxin coming?”

“I’m working on a better dispersal method.” He pushes his fingers through his hair. “Gas is easy to disperse, but not as potent as the liquid, but the liquid needs to be injected which is impractical in most situations.”

“Is there a way to increase the potency of the gas without significantly altering the formula?”

“Not that I’ve found.”

Edward taps a finger against his lips. “Perhaps a powder? Although, I suppose it would need to be ingested somehow, and it’s hard to force someone to inhale powder. Maybe something that could be applied topically? But that’s as impractical as the injections. Unless you were looking to mass produce and distribute it, then you could pass it off as some skincare product. That’s expensive and time consuming though.” He frowns. “Forget I said that, it’s not a good idea.”

“It’s alright, it’s not as if I need a solution right now. There’s no way I can work on the toxin until I get out of here and that may not be for a while.” He leans back against the concrete wall. “If you do come up with something though, by all means, let me know.”

“I’m sure between the two of us you’ll have an answer in no time.” He grins broadly. “I’ve missed you.”

Jonathan stares at him, a flicker of some unidentifiable emotion crossing his face. “Have you?”

“Of course. Everyone else in here is _so_ uninteresting, they’re not _nearly_ as fun to talk to as you are.”

“I see,” he says flatly. “You’ve been bored.”

“Terribly.” He bites down on his lower lip. “But now you’re back,” he murmurs.

“Now I’m back,” Jonathan repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't usually focalize my writing through edward (i usually find it easier to write for jonathan idk why) so i hope i get his voice right and everything!


	2. Chapter 2

Edward wraps his arms around Jonathan’s neck, kissing him feverishly. Jonathan braces one arm against the pillow beneath Edward’s head, his other hand moving to his hip. He snags Edward’s lower lip between his teeth, eliciting a quiet moan from him.

He twists his fingers into Jonathan’s hair, pulling his head down to his neck. Jonathan takes the not-so-subtle hint, pressing his mouth against Edward’s throat. He kisses and bites the sensitive flesh. Trails his tongue over his skin. Edward sighs, his eyes drifting shut.

Jonathan’s impressive intellect wasn’t the only thing he’d missed about him.

Jonathan slides a hand underneath the shirt of Edward’s Arkham uniform. His fingertips ghost over the crescent scars on his chest before he abruptly drags his fingernails down his torso. Edward groans, his hand tightening in Jonathan’s hair.

There’s a faint shuffling in the hallway. They both freeze, Jonathan detaching his mouth from Edward’s neck. The shuffling gets louder. Quickly, Jonathan rolls away from Edward, allowing him to practically leap off the bed and scurry into his own before anyone passing by can see them. They wait.

A guard shines a light into their cell. “Checks,” she mutters before moving on.

Edward sighs, rolling over onto his back. Runs his fingers through his hair. “How unfortunate,” he mumbles.

“Quite.” Jonathan glances at him. “They won’t be back around for a while,” he says softly. “We could keep going. If you want.” He clears his throat. “Or not. Up to you.”

Edward rolls his eyes in the dark. “Come here.”

Jonathan slips into his bed, quickly and quietly. Wraps an arm around his waist. “Where were we?” he murmurs, pressing his lips just below his jaw.

He hums quietly, his hand working its way back into his hair. “I’m sure you can figure it out.”


	3. Chapter 3

The cell door slides open and Jonathan slips inside. Edward looks up at him. Frowns. His hands are shaking. His eyes are dull. Something’s wrong. Edward cycles through the top five most likely reasons for Jonathan’s apparent anxiety. Then it occurs to him.

Jonathan notices him staring. Shoves his hands into his pockets. “What?”

“You were in the chapel.” It’s not meant to be an accusation, merely an observation. There are few places in the world that Jonathan actively dreads visiting and Church is one of them.

He scowls. “So?”

“Why?”

“If you can figure out where I was, you should be able to figure out why I was there.” He sits down on his bed. Doesn’t look at Edward.

He thinks. There’s one clear answer, but he doesn’t want it to be correct. He decides to go with his second guess, which is only marginally less concerning than his first. “Alcoholics Anonymous?”

“I’m not an alcoholic.”

His heart sinks. Then it is the obvious answer. “Jonathan?”

“ _What_ , Edward?”

“Have you… you haven’t been—”

“No, I haven’t.” He sighs, waving his hand dismissively. “Some new therapist read my file and decided that resuming narcotics meetings would somehow be beneficial for my mental state, despite the fact that I’ve been clean for ages.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” he repeats. “You would think they would just administer a drug test and not make wild assumptions about me based on one sentence in an outdated file, but I suppose it’s easier for the staff to just stick me in the chapel for an hour a day. Probably more cost efficient.”

“You would tell me though,” he presses.

“Tell you what?”

“If you’d been using.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t have to tell you. I’m sure it would be painfully obvious.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not about that. Would you _tell_ me?”

Jonathan sighs, pushing his fingers underneath his glasses to rub his eyes. “Yes, Edward, I would tell you.”

“You’re humoring me.”

“Isn’t that what you want?”

“I want you to be honest.”

“Fine,” he snaps. “I don’t know if I would tell you or not. Either, way, you’d be able to tell, so the result is the same. Now will you let it go?”

Edward opens his mouth to protest, but decides against it. He doesn’t want Jonathan to be angry with him, especially not when they have to share a cell. “Okay,” he says quietly. He slips his book out from beneath his pillow, lying back on the bed. He glances at Jonathan from the corner of his eye. He’s not looking at him. He doesn’t seem to be looking at anything. His fingers are still trembling.

“It’s rude to stare,” he mutters.

He’s convinced Jonathan must have some hidden third eye or something. “I’m not staring. I’m admiring you.”

Jonathan scoffs. “Like I believe that.”

“You’re shaking,” he comments.

“I’m aware.”

“That’s why I was staring.”

“So you admit you were staring.” He looks down at his own hands as if willing them to be still. “Don’t worry about me,” he says after a moment.

“Someone has to.”

“No one ever has so I see no reason to start now.”

Edward moves closer to the wall. Pats the mattress next to him. “Sit here.”

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

He sighs, getting up from his bed. Positions himself beside Edward. “Happy?”

Edward angles himself so his head is comfortably in Jonathan’s lap. Jonathan absently reaches to run his fingers through his hair and Edward shivers. He loves it when he does that. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” He opens his book, continuing from where he left off as Jonathan gently massages his scalp, twisting Edward’s hair around his fingers.


	4. Chapter 4

Edward sniffles quietly, burying his face in the rough pillowcase beneath him. He’s been crying silently for an hour or two now. Several times he’s considered waking Jonathan or even crawling into bed beside him but he's decided against it each time. He wraps his arms tightly around himself, holding back a sob.

He can never bring himself to shower on days like this, but feeling unclean always makes his anxiety worse. His skin crawls. He needs to do something, anything, to ease his discomfort but what _can_ he do cooped up in the cell? Usually his quick fix is to wear one of his nicer suits, or some other outfit he likes. But he can’t do that here. He can’t even distract himself from how awful he feels. There’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing he c—

“Edward.”

His breath catches in his throat and he quickly wipes his eyes with the heel of his palm. “What?” he mumbles.

“You’re crying.”

Damn. He thought he was being so discreet. “I’m not.” It sounds utterly unconvincing.

“You obviously are. Come here.”

“No.”

Jonathan sighs. “Dysphoria?” he murmurs, barely audible from the other side of the cell.

Edward bites his lip. How does he always know? He nods before realizing that Jonathan probably can’t see him. “Yeah,” he says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” He sniffles again, rolling over so he’s facing Jonathan, or at least his general direction. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

“I know.” He slips out of bed, poking Jonathan in the shoulder. “Move over.”

He does, allowing Edward to climb into bed beside him. “I thought you didn’t want to come over here.”

“Changed my mind.” He wraps his arm tightly around his waist, fingers pressing against his ribs.

Jonathan kisses the top of his head, smoothing his hair back. “Try to get some sleep.”

“Mm.” He rests his head on Jonathan’s chest. “You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk this is based off my own experience with dysphoria i'm sure it's very different for other people but my experience is the only experience i have lol


	5. Chapter 5

Edward sits in the rec room, building a small house of cards by himself. Jonathan’s busy with therapy and there’s no one else around who would be any fun to talk to. He’s impossibly bored. He finishes the house, then knocks it down and starts over. He sighs. He’s been doing this for half an hour already.

He sees someone enter the room from the corner of his eye and he perks up, only to be disappointed when he realizes it’s just Jervis. He goes back to the cards. If only he had a second deck, he could build something more impressive.

About fifteen minutes later Jonathan finally shuffles into the rec room, sitting heavily beside Edward at the table.

“How was therapy?” Edward asks casually, as if he hadn’t been waiting forty-five minutes for him to arrive.

“Dull. What are you doing?”

“Trying to entertain myself.” He knocks the latest house of cards over, collecting the cards one by one. “It’s not like there’s anyone interesting around.” He sighs. “If only Selina were here. But she always gets sent to Blackgate anyway.” He shuffles the deck absentmindedly.

“Am I not interesting enough for you?”

Edward can’t tell if he’s simply teasing or if he’s genuinely annoyed. “Of course you are, don’t be ridiculous. However, you’re also involved in far too many programs, what with your various therapies and the NA meetings. Who am I supposed to talk to when you’re unavailable?”

“There’s really no one else here that you talk to?”

He shrugs. “Harley’s away. Oswald goes to Blackgate. Echo and Query both go to Blackgate. Harvey’s here but he’s only really intelligent when it comes to law and politics and I can’t be bothered to care about either. Besides, I can never tell what sort of mood he’s going to be in, so I find it better to just keep my distance.” He frowns. “Everyone else either blatantly dislikes me or is just too boring to even consider.”

“I see.” Jonathan taps a long, slender finger against the table. “And where do I fall within that group of people?” he asks slowly.

“What do you mean?”

He keeps tapping his finger. “I’m sure there are those within that group that you prefer over others.”

“Correct.” A small smile plays on his lips. He seems almost jealous. It really is quite entertaining to see him concerned with something so minor. Something he has no reason to be concerned with. “So?”

“So, I’m curious to know where I rank, so to speak.”

“Feeling insecure, are we?”

“Edward.”

He laughs quietly, setting down the cards. “I suppose you don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Rank. So to speak.”

“Explain.” It’s not a question.

He waves a hand dismissively. “Well, Selina and Oswald are tied as my two closest friends, obviously. Then it’s Harley because she’s smart and charming, but difficult to actually hold a conversation with. Too easily distracted. Echo and Query are after her, simply by virtue of being my employees. Really, they'd be the same as Harley but I pay them so it's a different matter. Harvey, of course, is last. For obvious reasons.” He taps his lips with his index finger. “You, however, are a special case.”

“Am I?”

“Mm.” He leans back in his chair, tilting it so it’s balanced on the back two legs. “I would say I like you the same as Selina and Oswald, but I believe the nature of our relationship is too complex to really compare you to them. And all three of you provide me with different things, so I’d have to also factor in the value of whatever various services you each provide. Even then, there are some things that are difficult to appraise.” He leans the chair forward again, the legs scraping against the linoleum floor.

“Services.” Another non-question.

“Well, perhaps services isn’t the right word, but you know what I mean.”

“No, I’m not sure I do.”

Edward shrugs. “I suppose it doesn’t matter one way or another. I don’t see why you need to understand this.”

“I’m curious. Don’t tell me _you’ve_ never simply wanted to understand something.”

“I already understand everything.” He grins. “Really, there’s nothing for you to worry about. Your company is invaluable to me. You are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

“I’m serious.” He shrugs again. “I would say that I like you better than anyone else, but that’s inaccurate.” He picks up the deck of cards again, shuffling it a few more times. “I think I just like you differently.”

Jonathan is silent after that. Edward can’t tell if he’s unsatisfied with his answer or if he’s just thinking. Or perhaps neither. He never can tell with Jonathan. He gestures with the deck. “Want to play a game?”

“What game?”

“You can pick.”

He thinks. “Blackjack,” he decides.

Edward pauses, looking at him for a moment. “You’re not really jealous, are you? Of the others.”

“I wouldn’t call it jealousy, no.”

“What would you call it?”

“I don’t know. I’m just… evaluating.”

“I see,” he murmurs. He bites his lower lip. “There really is something… special about you, you know,” he mumbles.

“Special?”

“Yes. Special.” And with that the conversation is over. Edward begins to deal the cards, and they both settle in for the game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure if i really like this chapter so maybe i'll delete it or edit it later but ehhhh i always say that and then never do it lol. hopefully the next one will be better sorry folks


	6. Chapter 6

Jonathan hasn’t slept properly in days. He claims it’s his medication—the doctors changed his dosage, or gave him a new prescription and it’s interfering with his ability to sleep. Edward knows better. He can tell that Jonathan’s been having nightmares again. That he’d rather be completely sleep deprived than be confronted with unwanted memories. On one hand, Edward can understand and even sympathize with him, but he wishes that Jonathan would make even the slightest effort to take care of himself.

It’s not the first time it’s happened. However, last time they weren’t in Arkham and it was significantly easier to soothe Jonathan in the comfort of his own home. Here, there was only so much Edward could do.

“What did you do today?” Edward murmurs, running his fingers over Jonathan’s forearm. It had been a warm day and Jonathan has his sleeves rolled above his elbows. A rare sight.

“Not much. Therapy. Played a few games of chess with Jervis. That’s about it.” He pulls Edward tighter against his chest. Their legs are tangled awkwardly under the thin asylum blanket. It’s the only way Jonathan can even fit on the bed. Edward tries not to feel too envious of his height.

“Did you win?”

“Some. I let him win a few.” He shifts slightly. “He’s not at his best,” he mutters.

“Poor thing,” he says softly. His fingers linger over the small, circular scars on the inside of his elbow. He brushes them over the faint grey streak running along his vein. Frowns.

Jonathan jerks his arm away. Pushes his sleeve back down. “Don’t,” he says sharply.

“I didn’t mean t—”

“It’s fine. Just… don’t touch those.”

“You let me touch your other scars.”

“That’s different.” He adjusts so his arm is out of reach. “Just don’t. Please.”

Edward nods. “Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

He swallows. “Can I ask you something?”

“About what?”

“The other day. When you were asking me about Selina and Oswald and the others.”

“What about it?”

“You’re not… are you upset with me because I didn’t say I liked you the best?”

Jonathan looks vaguely taken aback. “What makes you think I’m upset with you at all?”

“It always seems like you are. At least a little.” He lowers his eyes. “I can’t always tell.”

He rolls his eyes. “Believe me, if I was genuinely upset with you, I wouldn’t let you crawl into bed with me every night.”

“I guess,” he mumbles.

“Besides, I already told you I wasn’t jealous.”

“You said you were evaluating.”

“Yes.”

“Evaluating what?”

He shrugs with the shoulder furthest from Edward. “I just like to know where I stand with you.” He presses a quick kiss to his forehead. “I’m not upset. If I was, you’d know.”

He nods slowly, feeling a bit silly for even asking. “Right. Okay.”

“You should get some sleep.”

“I’m not the one who’s been up all night for the past three days.”

“Well, it’s not like there’s anything that can be done about that.”

“At least try.” Edward murmurs. “For me.”

“You seem to think you can just add ‘for me’ at the end of any request and I’ll suddenly be compelled to oblige.”

He grins. “Is it working?”

“No.”

“Damn it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for anyone who's a little confused jon has track marks which are like scars/marks left from iv drug use so yeah idk how clear that was. if you're sensitive to like scarring or have trypophobia i'd advise not looking it up bc some of the pics on google are rlly severe


	7. Chapter 7

Edward sighs, sitting alone in the rec room once again. Someone else is using the cards today so he’s _extra_ bored. He’s been writing and solving equations on a napkin for a little while, but it’s not really any fun. If he can write the equation, obviously he should be able to solve it. He could try drawing, but he always gets frustrated when it doesn’t come out perfectly and he’d rather not get worked up over a disproportionate doodle right now.

He glances over at Jonathan. He’s sitting on the other side of the room, playing chess with Jervis. He feels a pang of annoyance. Jonathan _should_ be talking to him. But he’s not. Why not? Why does he want to talk to Jervis more than him? He frowns down at the equation he’d been working on. Realizes he made a mistake and now all of his calculations are off. He rips the napkin in half.

He gets up from his seat, going over to the table that Jonathan and Jervis are occupying. He pulls up a chair and sits down. Says nothing.

Jervis doesn’t seem to notice him. He’s too focused on the board. Jonathan, however, glances up. Nods at him.

He frowns again. He wanted more than that. He deserves more than just a nod. He sighs dramatically, slouching in his chair.

Jonathan moves a piece, seemingly taking no notice of Edward. He crosses his arms with a huff. He can’t believe Jonathan is actually _blatantly_ ignoring him. Isn’t it obvious that he wants attention? That he _needs_ attention. He digs his fingernails into his palm.

Jonathan reaches out underneath the table. Puts his hand on Edward’s thigh. Edward raises an eyebrow. It’s a start.

He takes Jonathan’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. He watches him, trying to gauge his reaction. Jonathan seems to tense a bit, but doesn’t remove his hand. He moves another piece.

Edward smiles. Better.


	8. Chapter 8

“Your hair is wet.”

Edward raises a hand to his damp hair, scowling. “I took a shower. Didn’t get the chance to dry it. Someone came in and I wasn’t really in the mood to be harassed so I had to finish up faster than I would’ve liked.”

“Ah.” Jonathan pushes his glasses up with his ring finger.

He sits down on the bed beside Jonathan, leaning his head against his shoulder. He knows it’ll leave a wet spot on his shirt but he doesn’t care. Jonathan will just have to deal with it. “I haven’t had a decent shower in ages,” he grumbles. “I feel fucking disgusting.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He nestles closer against Jonathan. “Do you have group today?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

He nods. “I always have group on Thursdays.”

“It’s Thursday?”

“Yes, Jonathan, it’s Thursday,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Oh.” He frowns. “ _Oh_.”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “I simply… forgot something.”

“Something that’s happening today?”

“Yes.”

“And what, dare I ask, did you forget?”

“Unimportant.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I’d prefer if you just told me and didn’t make me work for it today.”

“You’re going to think I’m an idiot.”

“Unlikely.”

Jonathan shrugs nonchalantly. “…My birthday,” he mumbles.

Edward sits up abruptly. “Your _what?”_

“It’s my birthday. Today.”

“You _forgot_ your _own_ birthday?”

“Well, it’s more accurate to say that I just didn’t know what day it was. But now I do and the day that it is is, in fact, my… birthday.”

Edward shakes his head in disbelief. “You were right. I _do_ think you’re an idiot.”

“That’s fair.”

He sighs, leaning back against Jonathan again. “Happy birthday,” he offers.

“Thanks. I guess.”

“So you’re a Scorpio?”

“I suppose.”

“Makes sense. How old are you turning?”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude to ask that?”

“I thought that only applied to women.”

“The desire to conceal one’s age is gender neutral.”

He laughs. “Can I guess?”

“Guess my age?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure, but no guarantees that I’ll tell you if you get it right.”

“Okay.” He pretends to think, tapping his finger against his lips. “One hundred and seven?”

“I hate you.”

“That’s fair.” He taps Jonathan’s arm. “Look at me?”

He does, raising an eyebrow. Edward cups his face in his hands and kisses him. He can feel Jonathan relax, feels him bring a hand to his waist. He kisses him back. It’s nice. Gentle. They don’t often take the time to be gentle with each other.

Edward pulls back after a few moments. “Remind me to steal you a gift when we get out,” he murmurs, bringing his lips to Jonathan’s neck.

He smirks. “As if you ever need to be reminded of anything.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's my birthday so i decided to write a quick little birthday chapter bc i'm not having a good day and maybe i can live vicariously through my own writing


	9. Chapter 9

“Edward, what are we doing in here?”

Edward reaches for Jonathan in the dark, his hand closing around a handful of his shirt. He doesn’t answer. Pulls him deeper into the storage room.

“Ed, I can’t fucking _see_ anyth—ahh.”

Edward grins, pressing a kiss to the fresh bite mark on Jonathan’s neck. “I take it you liked that?”

“Turn on the light,” he mumbles, his voice low.

“If I turn the light on then the guards will know someone’s in here,” he says, kissing Jonathan’s neck again. “If they find us they’ll put us in separate cells.”

“I can’t see,” he protests.

“You don’t need to.”

“No, but I would _like_ to.”

Edward takes a few steps backwards, pressing his back against the wall. He wraps his arms around Jonathan’s neck. Kisses him.

He pulls away. “Edward—”

“What?” he whines, annoyed that Jonathan is interfering with his plans.

“Are you standing on your toes?”

He feels his face flush. “I thought you couldn’t see anything,” he mutters.

“I can’t. I just don’t have to bend down as much as I usually do.”

Edward scowls. “It’s not my fault that you’re seven feet tall.”

“I’m only six four.”

“Just be quiet and kiss me before I develop a complex about my height.”

He scoffs. “As if you don’t already have one.”

“I swear to God I _will_ lock you in here.”

Jonathan stiffens. “Don’t joke about that,” he mutters. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” he says softly, feeling guilty for the choice of words. “I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s fine.” He clears his throat. Bends to press a kiss against Edward’s jaw.

Edward pushes himself onto his toes again, seeking Jonathan’s mouth. He kisses him, desperately trying to keep his balance. He can tell Jonathan is holding back laughter. “One word out of you and I will _kill_ you.”

“I was simply going to ask if you’d prefer to sit,” he murmurs, bringing his lips to Edward’s ear.

“Oh.” He bites his lower lip. “I suppose that would be easier.”

He can hear Jonathan sit down on the floor and he follows suit, sliding his back down the wall. He climbs carefully into Jonathan’s lap, his knees on either side of his hips. Wraps his arms around his neck again.

Jonathan’s mouth finds Edward’s throat as his fingers creep into his hair. Edward sighs, tilting his head back slightly. Jonathan’s free hand slides up the back of his shirt and he shivers.

Something occurs to him and, although he hates to ruin the moment, he needs to get it out. “Hey, Jonathan?”

“What?” he mumbles, his teeth scraping over his skin.

“This is a storage closet.”

“I’m aware. So?”

“So,” he starts, fighting a smile, “would you say that we’re currently… in the closet?”

Jonathan pulls away instantly. “Get off me.”

He pouts. “Was it really that bad?”

“Absolutely. Get off.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m _trying_ to, why do you think we’re in here?”                                     

“I hate you.”

“No you don’t.” Edward kisses him, grinning. “You could never hate _me_.”

“I can and I do.” He kisses him back. “I hate you more than anyone I’ve ever met.” He trails his tongue over Edward’s lower lip. Presses his fingers against his back.

He moans softly, grasping at the back of his shirt. “Even more than the Bat?” he murmurs.

“Oh, much more.” Jonathan kisses him again. “It’s positively ridiculous how much I hate you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just two dudes makin out in a closet


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw for mentions of self harm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes u just have a rough night

Edward sniffles, wiping roughly at his face. Jonathan presses a damp paper towel against the scratches on the back of his neck. It stings a little, but the cool water feels nice enough to combat any discomfort.

“Are there any more?” Jonathan murmurs. “Scratches, I mean.”

“No.”

“I wouldn’t advise lying to me. I can see blood on your clothes.”

Shit. “Maybe there are a few more.”

He sighs. “Take your shirt off.”

Edward swallows around the lump in his throat. “I’d rather not.”

“Edward, I can’t clean them if I can’t see them. Do you want to get an infection?”

“No, but—”

“Edward,” he says softly. “I just want to help.”

“I know.”

“You have to let me see,” he coaxes.

“I know,” he says again. Sighs. He pulls his shirt over his head, holding it tightly against his chest. “Just… do it fast.”

“I’ll do my best.” He dabs the paper towel against one of the nastier marks. Blood is smeared around the raw, red abrasion. “At least they’re not deep,” he murmurs. “They probably won’t scar, as long as you leave them alone and let them heal.” He moves on to another cluster of scratches. “Try not to pick at the scabs this time.”

Edward doesn’t say anything. He’s stopped crying but his eyes are puffy and red. His head hurts. He’s tired. And thirsty. He always gets thirsty when he cries.

“I wish I had an antibiotic. Or band-aids.” He cleans a scrape on Edward’s shoulder. “Are there any more?”

He nods silently.

“Where?”

“Arm. Stomach.”

“Turn around.”

He does, knowing the whole thing will go faster if he cooperates. He holds out his right arm, displaying two more marks. Avoids meeting Jonathan’s gaze.

Jonathan works on those for a few moments. Lifts his eyes to Edward’s face. “Stomach?”

His chest is tight. He clutches the shirt a little tighter in front of him. Shakes his head.

“Edward.”

“No.”

“Ed—”

“It’s just one,” he pleads. He feels tears sting the backs of his eyes but he’s determined not to cry. He doesn’t want Jonathan to see him cry any more than is absolutely necessary. “You don’t need to clean it. It’ll be fine just—please, I don’t want you to look at m—”

“It’s nothing I haven’t already seen.”

“I know but… I can’t. Not tonight.”

He takes his glasses off and rubs his eyes. “Would you prefer to do it yourself? I won’t look.”

Edward nods. Takes the towel from Jonathan. Waits for him to turn around before setting the shirt aside and wiping away the blood on his stomach. He winces a little. This one is deeper than the rest.

He finishes up and quickly pulls his shirt over his head. Taps Jonathan on the arm. “I’m done.”

Jonathan turns to face him. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“No, I guess not.” He leans forward to rest his head on his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“Mm.” He presses a kiss to the top of his head. “It’s what I do.”

“I’m sorry.”

“For?”

“Scratching.”

“Don’t be. I mean, I’d prefer if you didn’t, but I’m not upset.” He runs his hand up and down Edward’s arm. “You should cut your nails. Or file them down.”

He nods. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.” He presses his face into Jonathan’s neck.

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“You should try and get back to sleep.”

He grasps at Jonathan’s shirt. “Stay, please.” It sounds embarrassingly childish. He hopes Jonathan doesn’t tease him about it. 

Jonathan kisses his head again, smoothing his hair back. “I wasn’t planning on doing otherwise.”


	11. Chapter 11

“Crane. Visitor.”

Jonathan looks up from the card game he’d been playing with Edward. Poker. He stares blankly at the orderly. “I never get visitors.”

“Well you have one today. Come on.”

He glances at Edward who simply shrugs, scooping his cards into a neat pile. “But—”

“Look, I don’t have all day. Let’s go.”

He stands up. “Don’t look at my cards,” he mutters.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Edward says, smiling up at him. “Have fun with your mysterious visitor.”

“I will certainly try.” And with that he follows the orderly out of their cell, disappearing into the hall.

____

Edward sits alone in the cell, waiting for Jonathan to return. He’s been gone about half an hour and Edward is bored. Painfully so. He sighs, tapping his fingers against his knee. Visitors aren’t allowed to stay this long, are they?

There’s a commotion in the hallway. He stops tapping. Listens. He can hear the guards muttering amongst themselves. They seem to be approaching the cell. Perhaps it’s Jonathan coming back.

Something slams into a wall nearby and he hears one of the guards scream, “ _Goddammit_ , he fucking _bit_ me!”

Oh dear.

There’s the faint sound of a fist connecting with flesh and something hits the wall again. Edward flinches. Whatever’s happening, he wants it to stop.

The cell door slides open and a guard shoves Jonathan inside. “Next time you’re going to solitary, psycho,” he grumbles. Slams the door shut.

The cell is silent apart from the sound of Jonathan’s ragged breathing. He doesn’t look at Edward. Doesn’t even move. He just stares coldly at the door.

The silence makes Edward uncomfortable. Something is wrong. He clears his throat. “Did you… did you bite a guard?”

“Yes.”

“May I ask why?”

“Because he deserved it.” He finally moves. Sits down on the edge of his bed. His whole body is tense. There’s a large, red mark on his cheek. He pushes his fingers through his hair.

“What happened?” he asks quietly. “Who came to see you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

“No. It doesn’t.”

“You _bit_ a _guard!_ ” he snaps, growing frustrated with Jonathan’s lack of cooperation. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Probably a lot of things.” He seems to have calmed down a bit. At the very least he’s not violent anymore.

“Jonathan,” he says, gritting his teeth. “Who came to see you?”

He glances up at Edward. “Someone I didn’t want to see.”

“Yes, I gathered, but _who?_ ”

Jonathan sighs heavily. “Edward, please. I don’t want to talk about this.”

“But—”

“Please,” he repeats. He pushes his fingers underneath his glasses to rub his eyes and Edward is struck by how exhausted he looks. He always looks tired, always has dark circles under his eyes. But this is different. This is worse.

Edward groans. He knows Jonathan would let it go if their roles were reversed. Logically, he knows that. But he also knows that he is horribly curious and more than a little concerned and God damn it he _deserves_ to know what’s going on! It’s not _fair_ that Jonathan won’t just _tell_ him.

“Edward?”

“Fine,” he mutters. “I’ll let it go.”

“Thank you.”

“Whatever.”

Jonathan sighs. “Are you going to sulk for the rest of the day?”

“I’m not sulking.”

“Yes you are.”

“So what if I am?” he snaps. “I think I have the right to sulk.”

He frowns. “ _Why_ are you so angry with me all of a sudden?”

“Because you’re being a cryptic bastard. You bit someone and, I assume, got punched in the face because of some stupid visitor and now you won’t tell me who it was!” He glares across the cell at him. “You never just _tell_ me anything.”

“Am I not entitled to a private life?”

“You are, but—”

“Edward, not everything is about you. There are some things that you don’t need to know.”

“I deserve to know _everything._ ”

“No. You don’t.” He sighs, rubbing his temples with his index fingers. “You are acting like a child over something that in no way concerns you and, frankly, it’s obnoxious. Get over yourself. Grow up.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses. “I am _not_ childish.”

“Edward—”

“I’m _not!_ ”

“Fine.” His tone is deceptively even. He doesn’t raise his voice. Edward wishes he would. He’s used to yelling. This sort of thing just makes him nervous.

“Fine?” he asks skeptically.

“I’m not going to argue with you.” His voice is cold. Quiet. “You can deal with whatever bug crawled into your ass by yourself. We’re done talking.”

And that’s it. Jonathan doesn’t speak to him for the rest of the day. Edward desperately wants to take everything back. Wants to apologize. Whatever it takes to make Jonathan like him again. But he doesn’t. He just sits quietly, ignoring the dull ache growing in his chest. He doesn’t sleep well that night.


	12. Chapter 12

Jonathan still hasn’t spoken to Edward. Hasn’t looked at him, hasn’t touched him, hasn’t so much as _acknowledged_ him. He can’t remember the last time Jonathan was this mad at him. Every night Edward fights the urge to slip into bed beside him. Every night he curls up alone in his bed, wrapping his arms around his own torso in an attempt to comfort himself. It doesn’t work.

Harley is back in Arkham. While Edward genuinely does enjoy her presence, it couldn’t be worse timing. Now Jonathan is not only ignoring him, he’s ignoring him in favor of someone else. Granted, he occasionally spends time with Jervis instead of Edward, but this is so much worse. Jonathan and Harley have been spending an absurd amount of time together.

This is a nightmare.

“We need to talk.”

Jonathan looks up at Edward from the rec room couch. “Can it wait?” He’d previously been listening to Harley go on and on about her various exploits before getting arrested. Harley glances over at Jonathan. She looks a little uneasy.

“No.”

He sighs. “Fine.” He gets up without another word, nodding briefly at Harley. She waves at the two of them as they exit.

They stop just outside one of the storage closets in the hallway. Jonathan leans against the wall, raising an eyebrow. “Well?”

“Are you _still_ mad at me?”

“No.”

“ _No?_ ” he asks incredulously.

“I was only mad at you for a day.”

“What the _fuck_ , Jonathan?”

“Stop yelling.” He frowns. “For someone so tiny you are impossibly loud.”

He takes a deep breath. Tries to keep from strangling him. “You haven’t spoken to me in a week. You spend all your time with Harley. You won’t even _touch_ me anymore.”

“Has it really been a week?”

“Yes. It has.” He crosses his arms. “Why?”

“Why what?”

He sighs, exasperated. Jonathan really does have a talent for forgetting what they’re talking about mid conversation. “Why have you been ignoring me if not because you’re angry?”

“My intention wasn’t to ignore you.”

“Well then what _was_ your intention?”

“I… I guess I didn’t have one.” He shrugs. “I didn’t realize it had been so long.”

“So you’ve _accidentally_ been ignoring me this past week?”

He rubs his eyes. “Edward. I haven’t slept. I’m on different meds. I’m fairly sure I’ve spent most of my time dissociating. As far as I can remember, I haven’t done _anything_ this past week.”

“Oh.” Edward feels a pang of guilt. He didn’t even notice that Jonathan was doing worse than usual. He always notices. Why didn’t he notice?

“I’m sorry.”

He wasn’t expecting that. “You—what?”

“I said I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to ignore you or make you feel bad, but I did. And I’m sorry.”

“Really?”

“Yes. And I’ll try to be more… aware of your needs. It’s just been a rough few days for me.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I should’ve taken that into consideration.”

He waves a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. Come here.”

He does. Allows Jonathan to kiss his forehead. “So… we’re good?”

“As good as we ever are.”

“Good.” He pushes himself onto his toes so he can kiss Jonathan. “I haven’t kissed you in a week,” he murmurs.

Jonathan smiles slightly. Kisses Edward again. “I suppose we’ll just have to make up for lost time.”


	13. Chapter 13

“My mother.”

Edward looks up from his book. He’s been sprawled across Jonathan’s lap reading for about an hour now. They’ve been silent for the most part, so he's surprised when Jonathan decides to speak. Jonathan is rarely one to break silence. “Your mother?” he repeats, hoping for clarification.

“She visited.”

“She—you mean last week?”

“Yes.”

Edward sits up quickly. He closes his book, taking a mental note of the page he’s on. Turns to face Jonathan. “You met your mother and you didn’t tell me?”

“I didn’t want to talk about it when it happened.”

“But you do now?”

“Not exactly. I just… thought you should know.”

He chews lightly on the tip of his thumb. “I take it you weren’t happy to see her.”

“I thought she was dead.” He lowers his eyes. “To be honest, it would probably be better if she was."

“Oh.”

They’re silent for a few moments. Edward wants to hear the details of Jonathan’s visit with his mother, but he knows better than to pry right now. He changes the subject. “Why did you bite the guard?”

Jonathan furrows his brow, seemingly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot.”

He makes a face indicating that he did, in fact, forget. Edward sighs. Typical. Jonathan’s memory is notoriously awful, most likely due to his history of trauma, drug use, and good old fashioned mental illness. It really is a shame. At least Edward’s memory is good enough for both of them.

“After you saw your mother, you bit a guard. In the hall. And then he hit you.” He raises his eyebrows. “Is _any_ of this ringing a bell?”

“Not really.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I _bit_ someone?”

“Yes.”

“Someone that isn’t you?”

Edward rolls his eyes. “Very funny.”

“I try.” He frowns. “I really bit a guard?”

“No matter how many times you ask the answer will still be yes.”

“Shit,” he mutters. “I… I really don’t remember. At all.”

“What _do_ you remember from that day?”

“Talking to my mother. And… arguing with you, I think. Can’t remember about what.” He shrugs. “That’s about it.”

“Hm. What medications are you on?”

“Zoloft and Xanax, but I don’t take the Xanax.”

“How long have you been taking Zoloft?”

“A while. They switched me off Lexapro and put me on that instead.”

Edward frowns. “That’s probably making your memory worse. And I’m sure it’s not helping with your sleep problems.”

“I know.”

“So you should stop taking it.”

“I know,” he repeats. “But I’ve been taking it so long that I’ll have to deal with withdrawal if I do.”

“Why did you start taking it in the first place?” he asks. “I never take the shit they give me.” Edward realized a long time ago that the orderlies don’t bother to check whether they take the pills or not. He also realized that he could buy a variety of information and favors with two little tablets of Valium.

Jonathan shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just… I need _something_.”

“Jonathan—”

“I know it’s not healthy,” he says quietly. “I know. But I can’t smoke or drink or _do_ anything.” He lifts his eyes to look at Edward. “You don’t know what it’s like for me.”

“Then tell me,” he murmurs.

“No.”

“You never just _tell_ me.”

“I don’t want to get into this.”

“But—”

“Edward, please.” His voice is barely above a whisper. He looks down at his hands. “Drop it.”

“You always want me to drop it.”

“Yes, there’s a reason for that.”

Edward sighs. “Fine. Consider it dropped. Happy?”

“That’s a loaded question.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.” He drops his book onto the floor, nudging it under the bed with his foot. “Are you mad at me?”

“No. Why?”

“Just checking.” He lies down again. Rests his head against Jonathan’s thigh. “Hold my hand,” he mumbles.

“You have absolutely no manners.”

“Hold my hand, _please_.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. Takes Edward’s hand into his own. He gives it a slight squeeze, his other hand moving to stroke Edward’s hair.

He hums contentedly, bringing Jonathan’s hand to his mouth. He presses a kiss against the inside of his wrist.

“What was that for?”

He smiles slightly. “Since when do I need a reason to kiss you?”


	14. Chapter 14

The holiday season has arrived. Wonderful.

 Some of the nicer and less jaded employees have made an effort to decorate the asylum with red and green paper cut-outs, or pieces of shredded Styrofoam to mimic snow. It does nothing to keep the place from looking horribly dreary. Holidays or not, Arkham is a dreadful place.

Edward crosses his arms over his chest, slumping in his seat. He hates the holiday season. He doesn’t like Christmas. Never has. He hates that he can’t escape it, no matter where he goes. Hell, he’s in a goddamn _asylum_ and he’s still assaulted with unsightly Christmas decorations. Red and green, in his opinion, do not mix.

“This sucks,” he grumbles. Granted, it’s not the most articulate phrasing he could come up with, but he feels it accurately represents his stance on the situation.

“Agreed.” Jonathan frowns, crossing his legs under the rec room table.

“I’m havin’ a great time,” Harley says cheerfully. She’s been drawing and cutting out little paper dreidels for a while, obviously enjoying herself.

Edward scowls. “How come _you_ get scissors but _I_ can’t have candles?”

“They’re just safety scissors.” She holds them up, making a snipping motion.

“I can think of at least seventeen ways to kill someone with safety scissors.”

“Perhaps that’s why they don’t let _you_ have any,” Jonathan says, wiping his glasses on his sleeve.

“But I don’t even _want_ scissors, I just want candles.”

“And how many ways could you kill someone with a candle?”

He thinks. “Eleven. No, wait. Twenty-two.”

“Exactly.”

He pouts. “But it’s _Hanukkah_ ,” he whines. “They never let us do anything for Hanukkah. Every year it’s just tacky _Christmas_ decorations and off key _Christmas_ carols and those God awful Santa hats. But heaven forbid I want some fucking candles and a glorified spinning top to celebrate _my_ holiday, and that’s too much effort, or there’s not enough demand, or I shouldn’t be such a _scrooge._ ” He huffs, frowning. “Frankly, I’m beginning to think it’s anti-Semitic.”

Jonathan glances at Harley. “Do you want to take this one?”

She shakes her head, drawing another dreidel. “All yours.”

He sighs. “I’m sorry you are unable to celebrate Hanukkah. Really. I know this time of year is unreasonably saturated with Christmas festivities and decorations. I know it’s not fair. I’m not especially happy about it either. But there’s not really anything that can be done right now. The fact of the matter is you’re not allowed to celebrate, and you’re not really in a position to change that.” He reaches for Edward’s knee beneath the table, squeezing it gently. “Right now you just have to be patient.”

“But I shouldn’t _have_ to be patient,” he protests.

“No, you shouldn’t. But you do. At least for now.” He leans back a little in his chair. “Arkham isn’t really the place to try and enact social change. Save that for the real world where it actually makes a difference.”

Edward wrinkles his nose. He’s right. Of course he’s right. That still doesn’t keep him from being upset. “Fine,” he mutters. He gets up, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’m going to the library,” he announces. “Either of you want to come?”

Jonathan shrugs. Stands up as well. “Harley?”

Harley makes a shooing motion with her hand. “I’m good here. Have fun, you crazy kids.”

“Likewise.” He grabs Jonathan by the elbow, a little more roughly than he’d intended. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't been updating as frequently depression's a bitch anyway here's some stuff abt eddie and harley being jewish i love them and i also don't like the christmas season. i know it's literally the middle of august but it's just something that annoys me and it's the only thing that i could actually bring myself to write abt lol


	15. Chapter 15

It’s a pitiful excuse for a library. There aren’t many books, and even less that are actually of interest. The majority of them are self help books. The rest are fiction. The asylum does possess the full Harry Potter series, whether by popular demand or simply coincidence. Edward never liked them.

There’s a surprising amount of shelves, given that none of them are filled. Perhaps at one point the library was more impressive. Perhaps it was used for something else. He supposes it doesn’t matter now. It is what it is. No more, no less.

“What are you thinking about?” Jonathan murmurs.

“I’m sure you don’t actually want to know.”

“I want to know if you want to tell me.”

Edward frowns, trailing his finger over the spine of one of the books. “Favorite book?”

“It’s hard to pick a favorite.” Edward can feel his eyes on him. “I’m sure you have some perfectly crafted response, though.”

“When I was younger I always used to say it was The Iliad. I thought it made me sound smart.” He smiles a little. “I’ve never read it.”

“The Odyssey is better, in my opinion.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“So what is it actually? Your favorite book, I mean.”

He shrugs. “Like you said, it’s hard to pick a favorite.”

“Top three, then.”

“Will you tell me your top three if I tell you mine?”

“Sure.”

He thinks for a moment. He could just pick the three books he thinks Jonathan would want him to like. But what’s the harm in being honest? Embarrassment. That’s the harm. He has to pick something that makes him look good. Makes him seem smart. But he doesn’t need to _seem_ smart, he _is_ smart. He _is_ smart.

“Edward?”

“I liked Fahrenheit 451. And The Art of War, obviously. And… The Picture of Dorian Gray.” He takes one of the books off the shelf, dusting it off. Clears his throat. “Your turn.”

“The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch was one of my favorites growing up,” he murmurs. He almost sounds… sad. He continues, “I liked A Clockwork Orange. And Frankenstein.”

Edward rolls his eyes. “Of course you liked Frankenstein.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Edward smiles, glancing back at him. “What about your least favorite book?”

“Oh, that’s easy. What’s the one about the boys that get stuck on an island and try to kill each other?”

“Lord of the Flies?”

“Right.” He frowns. “I hated that book. Everyone tries to say it’s some insightful depiction of human nature, but really it’s just a bunch of white boys who don’t know how to act.”

“I would argue that you are also a white boy who doesn’t know how to act.”

“Which is why I am the perfect person to criticize the book.”

Edward laughs, turning back toward the bookshelf. “Mine’s Catcher in the Rye.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. I had this teacher who absolutely _loved_ it. He’d compare himself to Holden Caulfield constantly, and he’d always tell us that the book would change our lives, that it was so iconic.” He shakes his head, beginning to rearrange the books. It won’t take long, there’s only a few. He hardly even realizes he’s doing it. “I read it. Hated it. Wrote an essay about how much I hated it.” He decides to organize them by size and color. It’s prettier that way.

“I take it the teacher didn’t appreciate it.”

He shrugs. “He tried to flunk me, but I dropped out at the end of the semester so it doesn’t matter.” He finishes with the books. Admires his work.

“Wow, you really showed him.”

“Fuck off.”

Jonathan smiles, wrapping his arms around his waist. Leans down to kiss the back of his neck.

Edward sighs, leaning back against him. “Feeling affectionate, are we?”

“I have my moments.” He presses another kiss behind his ear.

He twists around, tapping his lips with his finger. Jonathan kisses him. Presses him against the bookshelf. Edward brings his hands to Jonathan’s hips, grabbing onto his shirt.

“Jonathan?” he murmurs.

“Yes?”

“I like it when you tell me about yourself.”

“Really?”

He nods, resting his head on his shoulder. “You never do. It’s… I like learning about you.”

“I see. I’ll have to remember that.” He pulls away from Edward, kissing his forehead. “Come on, it’s getting late. We should go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two dudes chillin in the library 0 feet apart cuz they are gay
> 
> the catcher in the rye thing is from personal experience i had a teacher who worshiped that fuckin book to the point of like. obsession. tbh i didn't like it
> 
> Update: I changed one of eddies fav books from 2001: a space odyssey to fahrenheit 451bc i just started reading 2001 a space odyssey and it's boring as fuck! why do white sci fi nerds like this book so much!!! if i had a dollar for every time some white boy recommended that book to me i'd be able to buy a real spaceship!!!


	16. Chapter 16

“Edward, for fuck’s sake, _get up_.”

Edward groans, rolling onto his back. Jonathan is shaking him rather aggressively, and he’s more than unhappy about being woken up at this ungodly hour. He weakly swats Jonathan’s hand away. “Let me sleep, you monster,” he grumbles.

“Edward we have to go.”

“Go where?” He frowns, eyes still closed. It sounds like someone is yelling outside. Goddamn lunatics.

“There’s a power outage. All the locks are disabled.”

That’s enough to wake him up. He sits up, rubbing his eyes roughly. “What?”

“We have to go, _now._ ”

He nods, stumbling out of bed. “We have to stop and get my things.”

“There might not be time.” Jonathan shoves something into his pocket, sliding the cell door open.

“Then we’ll make time.” He slips out of the door and into the hall. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters, scanning the surrounding area.

It’s complete chaos. Inmates swarm the halls, screaming and laughing and running every which way. He scowls. All the commotion will draw the guards to their location.

Jonathan grabs him by the arm, leading him past their row of cells and around the corner.

Edward frowns, looking around. “We’re going the wrong way.”

“No we’re not.” They approach a storage closet. Jonathan opens it, ducking inside. Tosses Edward an Arkham security jacket, pulling on his own. “Put that on.”

He does. It’s too big. Of course it’s too big. He rolls up the sleeves. “I’m sure the real guards will be able to tell it’s us.”

“But they’re less likely to notice us if we don’t look like manic inmates.” He hands Edward a pillowcase. “For our stuff. Besides,” he continues, “it’s the night shift. There are probably only a few guards on duty and they’re not going to waste time on anything that isn’t an immediate threat.” He continues down the hall, motioning for Edward to follow.

He does his best to keep up, but he physically can’t walk as fast as Jonathan. A guard runs past them and Edward lowers his head. Jonathan doesn’t even bother, just keeps walking straight ahead. She doesn’t seem to notice them at all. Disappears around the corner.

They keep walking in silence for a while, Edward jogging more than walking, before they come to the storage room that houses all of the inmates’ personal possessions. Jonathan slides the door open and Edward slips inside. He finds the two cardboard boxes labeled with their last names. He removes their things, shoving them into the pillowcase Jonathan had given him. Goes back outside.

“Got everything?”

He nods. “How has the power not come back on yet?”

“The generator’s broken. They’re too cheap to fix it.” He grabs Edward’s arm again, pulling him along.

“I guess I’m not surprised.” He frowns. “Not so tight.”

“Sorry.” He loosens his grip.

“Are we… we’re heading towards the front door.”

“I know.”

“We can’t just walk out the front door, there’s always a guard there!”

“There won’t be a guard. They need everyone to handle the inmates.”

“How can you be sure?”

He grins over his shoulder. “You forget I used to work here.”

Ah. He didn’t think of that. Eidetic memory or not, his mind works slower when he’s tired.

Sure enough, they get to the lobby and there is no one to be found. Not a single guard or orderly. It’s almost too perfect. They walk out the front door. Walk out into the cold night air.

Jonathan reaches into his pocket, taking out a set of car keys. He leads Edward into the parking lot, walking towards one of the asylum vans.

“Where did you get those?”

“Stole them from a guard. I’ve had them under my mattress for a while. I’m glad I finally have a chance to use them.” He turns the key in the passenger door lock, opening it and allowing Edward to get in. He goes around the front, getting into the driver’s seat. He inserts the key into the ignition, practically beaming when the engine turns over.

Edward grins, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I’m lucky I have you with me, or else I might have to put some effort into escaping.”

“I’m sure you could escape just as easily on your own. _You’re_ the genius, after all.” He looks over his shoulder, backing out of the parking lot. He makes a quick turn, speeding through the open gate and onto the bridge.

Edward leans back in his seat, sighing. Closes his eyes.

They’re finally free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk im not good at writing action stuff like escapes and whatnot so sorry if this isn't very dynamic or well written i just wanted to get them out of the frickin asylum


	17. Chapter 17

Edward walks up the steps of one of his safe houses, reaching above the doorframe for the spare key. He fits it into the lock. Opens the door. He goes inside, Jonathan following behind him. He flicks on the light, surveying the interior. Same as when he left it. Good.

“Can I stay here tonight?” Jonathan mumbles. His voice is heavy with exhaustion.

“Of course.” Edward flops down on the couch, curling into the fetal position.

Jonathan sits beside him. Rests a hand on his hip. “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I could do. What time is it?”

“Around two thirty.”

He groans. He’s tired. He hates being woken up early, especially when he has to actually _do_ things. All he wants to do is pass out right there on the couch, but he feels unbearably dirty. He hasn’t taken a decent shower in months. But if he showers now it’ll take longer for him to fall asleep. He decides that he’d rather feel clean and sleep deprived than skip the shower. He sits up, rubbing his eyes. “I’m gonna take a shower. Can you do me a favor?”

“Sure.”

“Can you make me tea?”

He nods. “What kind?”

“Anything that’s not caffeinated.”

“How do you take it?”

“No milk, not too much sugar.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.” He kisses Jonathan quickly before getting up and going into the bathroom. He strips off the dreadful Arkham uniform, kicking it into a heap on the bathroom floor. Turns on the shower. Waits for the water to get warm.

He glances at his reflection in the mirror. He’s certainly looked better, but he’s also looked worse. His hair has grown since he’s been away and it’s beginning to regain some of its natural curl. He frowns. He needs a haircut.

He steps into the shower, pulling the curtain closed. He practically moans as the hot water hits his skin. It’s been so long since he’s actually had a hot shower. God, it feels good. Being stuck in an asylum for months really does give him a newfound appreciation for the little things in life.

After a while he hears the tea kettle start to whistle and he reluctantly turns the water off, reaching for a towel. He dries off quickly, going into his bedroom to look for a change of clothes. He opens the bottom drawer of his dresser, taking out a pair of green pajama pants and a black tee shirt. He gets dressed and goes back into the living room.

Jonathan is sprawled on the couch with his legs draped over the side. There’s a cup of tea on the table in front of him. Chai. A good choice. His glasses are set beside the mug. Edward motions for him to move over, sitting down beside him. Jonathan adjusts so his head is balanced on Edward’s thigh. His hair is mussed and his eyes are closed. He sighs softly, his lips parting.

Edward smiles. He loves seeing him like this. “Sleepy?” he asks, reaching for the mug.

He nods, turning so his face is pressed against his stomach. “Thank you for letting me stay here,” he mumbles.

“You know you can stay here whenever you want. Within reason, of course.” He takes a sip of the tea.

He shrugs. “I know but… I’m still grateful.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Thank you for making tea.”

“Is it okay?”

“Mhm. You got the sugar right.”

“Thank God,” he mumbles. He lifts Edward’s shirt a little, pressing a kiss against his stomach.

Edward grins, reaching down to ruffle his hair a little. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“I… I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

“Mm. Me too.” He kisses his stomach again, turning to lie on his back.

“Do you think you’ll be able to get some sleep?”

“Yeah… maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soft boys


	18. Chapter 18

When Edward wakes up Jonathan is gone. He sighs. He doesn’t know what he expected.

He checks the clock. Eight twenty-two. Checks his phone. No notifications. He sighs again. Swings his legs over the edge of the bed. Grabs his phone from the bedside table. He gets up, going into the kitchen. He takes a glass out of the cabinet, filling it with filtered water from the fridge. Takes a sip.

He should’ve known Jonathan would leave. He should’ve known, but everything had been so nice lately and he thought things were going well and he feels like a fucking _idiot_ for believing that he would stay. For hoping he would. He should’ve known better.

He inhales a shaky breath, pushing his fingers through his hair. He shouldn’t be upset about this. He shouldn’t. It’s silly. Getting upset over a boy. He’s not in high school, he’s an adult. He just has to move on. He’s out of Arkham. In his own home. Things are good. Things are better. He’s better off on his own.

Edward sets the glass down. It’s quiet. Impossibly quiet. _Uncomfortably_ quiet. Music. He should listen to music. He plugs his phone into the small set of speakers on the kitchen counter. Skims through his music library. Frowns. He closes the app. Podcast, he decides. Podcasts are safer. He turns on the NASA podcast he likes. Perfect. He has sound, now he just needs a task. He’s been gone four months, there must be _something_ that needs to be done. Dust. He’s going to dust.

He’s finished with the bedroom and kitchen and is halfway through with the living room when there’s a knock at the door. He freezes, considering the likelihood that it’s the police or the Bat or—

“It’s me.”

Oh.

He sets the duster down, going over to the door. Pulls it open. “I thought you left,” he mutters, trying not to sound overwhelmingly bitter.

“I had to take care of something. I didn’t want to wake you.”

He crosses his arms. “It would’ve been nice to know you were coming back.”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow. “You thought I wasn’t coming back?”

“Not that I _care_. It just seemed like you had better things to do than stay here.”

“Are you… you’re upset.”

“Barely.”

“But you _are_ upset,” he presses.

“So what if I am?”

“I can’t tell why.”

“No, of course you can’t.” He turns around, going to pick up the feather duster. Continues cleaning.

Jonathan stands awkwardly in the doorway. “Can I come in?”

“What are you, a vampire?” He waves his hand, not looking up from the shelf he’s dusting. “Do whatever you like.”

He takes a few steps inside. Closes the door behind him. “Edward.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Just… you could’ve left a note or something.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I don’t even need to know where you’re going,” he continues, not exactly answering his question. “I’d just like to know that you’re not… that you’re coming back.”

“I… oh. Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.” He sets the duster down again. “Sorry. I was trying not to be upset with you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He frowns. “What are you listening to?”

“Podcast.”

“Oh.” He clears his throat. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Come get breakfast with me.”

He looks at him. Scans his face. “Why?”

“Peace offering.”

He hesitates. He’s still a little upset, against his better judgment. But… maybe he won’t be after breakfast. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Let me get dressed.”


	19. Chapter 19

“What are you going to do after this?”

Jonathan shrugs, pushing his food around with his fork. “Didn’t have any plans. Might try and get some work done.” He glances up at Edward. “You?”

“I… I’m not sure.” He stares intently down at his plate. “Do you… um… you could come over. If you want.”

“I have to go to my place if I’m going to get work done.”

“Oh.”

“I could stop by after.”

Edward nods. “That’d be nice,” he says quietly. He takes a French fry off Jonathan’s plate. “I’m sorry about earlier.”

“Don’t worry about it. You were right. I should’ve let you know I was leaving.” He sits back in his chair. “Let’s put it behind us and move on, alright?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bye this is the shortest chapter ever the next one will be longer i promise


	20. Chapter 20

Edward sighs, rolling over onto his back. “Fuck,” he mumbles, struggling to catch his breath. He pushes his hair away from his face, his heart pounding.

“Good?” Jonathan murmurs.  Presses his lips against Edward’s shoulder.

He nods. “Very.”

“Good.” He sits up, reaching over the side of the bed for his clothes.

Edward does the same, pulling his underwear back on. Lies down again. “Are you staying over?”

“Do you want me to?” He pulls his shirt over his head.

He shrugs. “I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

Jonathan sighs, sounding a little exasperated. “Just say you want me to and I will.”

He bites his lip. “I want you to stay,” he says softly.

He smirks. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

“Shut up. Come here.”

He returns to his place beside Edward, draping one arm over his torso. “Happy?”

“Very.” He turns onto his side, kissing the tip of Jonathan’s nose.

Jonathan grins, tilting his head to kiss Edward. His arm tightens around him. He kisses him again. Runs his fingertips over Edward’s spine.

He shivers, pressing closer to him. He brings one hand to the back of his head, the other moving to his waist. He catches Jonathan’s lower lip between his teeth briefly, before pulling away completely. “I need to get you a gift.”

Jonathan frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“On your birthday I said I would get you a gift when we got out, remember?”

“You know damn well I don’t remember that at all.”

“Well, now we’re out,” he continues. “So I’m going to get you something.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I know, but I want to.” He nestles against Jonathan’s chest, his hand creeping up the back of his shirt. “I like giving gifts. It’s a quick and easy way to make people like you.”

“I already like you.”

“But you can always like me more.”

He laughs quietly, squeezing Edward’s shoulder. “I don’t think a gift will make me like you any more or less.”

“I’m still getting one.”

“That’s fine. I wasn’t saying you shouldn’t.”

“Good. Because I’m going to.” He kisses the base of Jonathan’s neck. Presses his fingers against his lower back. “Did you sleep last night?”

“A bit.”

“Mm. Try to sleep tonight.”

“I will.” He kisses the top of Edward’s head. “Goodnight,” he murmurs.

“’Night.”


	21. Chapter 21

“Your hair is shorter.”

Edward raises his hand to the back of his head, his fingertips brushing over his freshly cut and washed hair. “I got it done this morning. Like it?”

“It looks the same as it usually does, just… shorter.” Jonathan shrugs. “It’s nice.”

“Thank you. Can I come in?”

Jonathan steps out of the doorway, allowing Edward to slip inside. “Is this a social call?”

“As opposed to what?”

“I suppose that answers the question.” He closes the door, keeping to the far side of the room.

Edward scans the apartment. It’s messy to be sure, but it’s been worse. There are only two dirty mugs and a plate in the sink. There are three more plates in the drying rack. He’s eating. And doing dishes. A good sign. There are stacks of papers and notebooks throughout the room. Stacks are good. Better than piles. Stacks demonstrate an attempt, however slight, at organization. Another good sign.

“What were you working on before I arrived?” Edward asks, leaning over to read the top page of the nearest stack. He rolls his eyes. Jonathan’s handwriting is practically illegible. A doctor to his core.

“I was just looking over my notes. Trying to see if I missed something.”

“Would you like me to take a look? It might help to have a second pair of eyes.”

“Maybe later. Did you… want anything in particular?”

He turns to face him. “I wanted to see you,” he says simply.

“I have a hard time believing that’s all you wanted.”

“Really, that’s it. No ulterior motives.” He holds his hand to his heart. “Scout’s honor.”

“You and I both know you were never a scout of any kind.”

He grins. “No, but I think I would’ve liked being a boy scout. I always did love a man in uniform.”

“Good lord.” He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You _really_ just… wanted to see me?”

“Why is that so unbelievable to you?”

“I don’t know. No one’s ever just…” He trails off, clearing his throat. “Sorry, by the way. I know we haven’t spoken in a few days. I’ve just been busy.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been a bit busy myself.” He sits down on the arm of the sofa. “I saw Selina the other day.”

“How is she?”

“She still hates you.”

“Figures.”

“Really, I don’t see why she dislikes you so much,” he continues. “I mean, she never likes any of the guys I’m interested in, but it’s usually not this… _dramatic_.”

“Hm.”

“Perhaps she’s secretly in love with you and she’s just jealous.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Doubtful.”

He taps his finger against his lips. “Maybe she’s secretly in love with _me_ and she’s jealous of _you_.”

“That’s only marginally more plausible.”

He grins. “Either way, she’s not really happy that we’re… doing whatever it is we do. She was trying to set me up with one of her boyfriend’s billionaire friends.”

He raises an eyebrow. “She’s still seeing Bruce?”

“Off and on.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Personally, I think she can do better, but you don’t see _me_ trying to set her up with anyone. And I certainly don’t pitch a fit whenever _she_ talks about _him_.”

“Does she know that he’s—”

“I’m not sure and I don’t want to ask on the off chance that she doesn’t. That’s not something she should hear from me.”

“If you say so.”

Edward laces his fingers together, looking down at his hands. Bites his lip. “Hey.”

“What?”

“Kiss me?”

Jonathan crosses the room, stopping just in front of Edward. “You’ll have to stand up,” he murmurs. “I am _not_ bending down that far.”

He does. Wraps his arms around Jonathan’s neck. “Better?”

“Barely, but I’m used to it.” He leans down. Kisses him softly. Brings one hand to the small of his back, pressing Edward against him. “Maybe you should invest in a pair of heels,” he mumbles, kissing him again. “Or perhaps a small step-ladder.”

“Oh, fuck you.”


	22. Chapter 22

“Hold still.”

“I’m not even moving.”

“Yes, you are, I can feel it.” Edward holds Jonathan’s hand in his own, applying a second coat of nail polish to his ring finger. “If this nail comes out ugly the fault is yours and yours alone.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes but keeps still nonetheless. “I haven’t had painted nails in ages.”

“I know. It really is a shame, I think you look quite nice with them.”

“Oh you do, do you?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.” He dips the small brush back into the bottle before setting to work on his pinky. “I like nail polish on men. It’s cute.” He sticks his tongue out a little, concentrating. “You have surprisingly nice nails.”

“Thanks. I guess.”

“You’re welcome. Other hand, please.”

Jonathan gives him his left hand, waving his right to dry it. “Thank you, by the way. You’re better at this than I am.”

“It’s no trouble. This is actually quite relaxing. And I’m only better because I started painting nails when I was seven.” He grins, glancing up at him. “It makes you very popular at sleepovers.”

He laughs. “So you’re basically an expert.”

“I’m an expert in almost everything.”

“Almost?”

“Almost.” He finishes the left hand. “Is your right hand dry?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Do you want shiny nails or matte?”

“Shiny.”

Edward opens a second bottle, preparing to apply the top coat. Gestures for him to switch hands. “I have your gift, by the way.”

“Gift?”

“For your birthday.” He starts on his right thumb.

“For my—oh, right. I forgot.”

“I can tell.”

“What did you get me?”

“You’ll see, as soon as I’m done.” He smiles to himself, very pleased with his gift choice. He hopes Jonathan likes it. He put quite a lot of effort into getting him something nice. Granted, it wasn’t difficult to acquire once he’d located it, but he should get extra points for breaking into a billionaire’s private library to get it. He moves on to his other hand.

“Are you almost done?”

“Almost. Stay still.”

“I _am_. I’m tired of sitting still.”

Edward rolls his eyes. “And you think _I’m_ whiny.”

“I have never said any such thing.”

“But you think it.”

“Very rarely.”

He finishes with the last finger, twisting the top back on the bottle. “All done.”

“Finally. Thank you.” He holds his hand out, admiring Edward’s handiwork.

“You’re very welcome. Stay there,” he instructs, getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going?”

“To get your gift.” He exits the bedroom, going into his office. Takes the wrapped parcel off his desk, going back into the bedroom. He sets the present down in front of Jonathan. “Happy belated birthday.”

He stares blankly at the package, his hand hovering just above it. “Can I open it?”

“That’s sort of the whole point.”

“Right,” he mumbles. He takes the rectangular object into his hands, gingerly peeling off the wrapping paper. He sets the paper aside, completely intact. Looks intently at the book in his hands.  “This is…”

“First edition, yes.” He grins. “I know you prefer Jung to Freud, and I also know you don’t have a copy of The Red Book which, in my opinion, is a _crime_.”

Jonathan runs his fingers over the cover. Traces the lettering. “I don’t know what to say,” he says quietly.

“Do you like it?” He feels a twinge of anxiety. Ignores it.

“Yes. I… First edition?”

“Mhm. It’s worth quite a bit.”

“Where did you get this?”

“I stole it from a collector. He wasn’t putting it to _any_ use. It was completely sealed tucked away on a shelf in a massive library.” He shrugs. “If you ask me, you don’t deserve a fancy first edition book if you’re not going to read it or, at the _very_ least, sell it. And I _know_ he had no intention of selling it, I mean, he’s a bil— ”

“Edward.”

“Yes?” Another twinge.

“I… no one’s ever gotten me a birthday present before.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Really?”

Jonathan nods, still looking down at the book.

“Well, that’s positively unacceptable,” he says, sitting down beside him on the bed. “I suppose I’ll just have to keep getting you things to make up for it.”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“I know, but I want to. You deserve it.” He smiles, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “Do you really like it?”

He nods again. “I love it.” He sets the book aside, cupping Edward’s face with his hands. He kisses him softly. Presses his forehead against Edward’s. “Thank you.”

He beams. Kisses Jonathan’s nose. “You’re welcome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guilty pleasure: scarecrow with black nail polish


	23. Chapter 23

“Sorrysorrysorry!” Edward squeaks, scrambling into the booth where Selina is seated. “Traffic was _hell_ , I think someone blew up the bridge again and the roads were all blocked off so I had to go all the way around to get here and then I couldn’t find parking nearby so I had to spend at _least_ ten minutes looking for a spot and I could only find one two blocks away so I had to walk the rest of the way here and I am _so_ sorry I’m late.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

Selina stares at him, one eyebrow arched. “You done?”

“Yes.”

“You have a giant hickey,” she says dryly, taking a sip of her wine.

Shit. He instinctively raises his hand to cover it, his face flushing. He’d meant to put some concealer on it before he left the house. “I may have lied the _tiniest_ bit about why I was late.”

“You were getting fucked.”

“I was, yes.” He buttons the collar of his shirt in a poor attempt to hide the large, purple mark. Clears his throat. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. I ordered for you.”

“What did you get?”

“The pasta you like.”

“Amazing. I’m starving.”

She smirks, pushing the basket of bread towards him. “Yes, I’m sure you worked up quite an appetite.”

His cheeks burn. “Oh, shut up,” he mutters, taking a piece of bread.

She laughs, raising her glass to her lips again. “How _is_ Jonathan these days?”

“Good. He’s been doing better lately.”

“Mm, we’ll see how long that lasts.” She sets the glass down, fighting a smile. “You’re gonna hate me, but I _have_ to ask… how big is his d—”

“ _Selina!_ ”

“What?”

“We are _not_ talking about this,” he hisses.

She feigns surprise. “Wow, it’s _that_ small? You poor thing.”

“I will leave,” he snaps. “I will walk out of this restaurant _right now_ and leave you with the bill for two dinners.”

She holds her hand to her chest. “ _I_ can afford it. _My_ boyfriend is a _billionaire._ ” She grins, leaning forward a little as if about to divulge a thrilling secret. “That’s billion with a ‘b’.”

He glares across the table at her, taking another piece of bread and ripping it in half. “I hate you.”

She leans back, still grinning. “Oh, come on, I’m just teasing. Lighten up.”

“It’s not funny.”

“Yes it is. It’s hilarious.”

He pouts, slumping in his seat. “I don’t see why you dislike him so much.”

She waves her hand loosely. “Who says I dislike him?”

“You do. All the time.”

“Oh, not _all_ the time.”

“Yes, all the time!” he exclaims. “You _always_ do this, I mean _Christ_ , Selina, can’t you just be _happy_ for me?”

“Why? Because you’re having sex with a drug addicted sociopath?” She scoffs. “I’m _so_ happy for you.”

“He is not an addict anymore and he most certainly is not a sociopath.”

“Psychopath, then.”

He sighs. “Selina, I really like him.”

“Eddie…” She closes her eyes, rubbing her temples with two perfectly manicured fingers. “I don’t think he’s good for you.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“It’s true.”

“That is fucking bullshit and you know it. I’ve dated plenty of people who were much worse for me and you _never_ hated them this much.”

“Yeah, but at least those were _normal_ people.”

“So? You can be normal and still be manipulative or cruel or unfaithful or—” He snaps his mouth shut as the waiter approaches their table. He waits until he’s set the plates down and moved out of earshot. Continues. “Jonathan is many things, but he has never been abusive. And that’s more than I can say about a lot of people.” He lifts his fork, looking intently down at his plate. “You don’t have to like him,” he murmurs. “Just accept that I do.”

“Edward—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” he mumbles. “Please. I don’t want to fight with you.”

She sighs, cutting into her piece of fish. “Fine. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”


	24. Chapter 24

Edward bounces his leg anxiously, holding his phone tightly against his ear. Pick up, pick up, pickuppickuppickup—

“What,” Jonathan’s voice grumbles in his ear.

He breathes a sigh of relief. “It’s me.”

“Oh.” His voice softens. “Hey.”

“Did I wake you?” he mumbles, feeling more than a little guilty.

“It’s fine. Are you okay?”

He’s quiet for a moment. He runs a hand through his hair, exhaling a shaky breath. “Can you come over?”

“Edward, is everything alright?”

“I’m…” He sniffles, wiping his face. Tries to keep his voice steady. “I’m okay, just… Please come over.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a bit.” He hangs up.

Edward sighs, tossing his phone onto the mattress. He slouches on the edge of the bed, his hand moving to the back of his neck. He begins to scratch and pick the skin just above the collar of his shirt. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it until it starts to bleed.

“Goddammit,” he mutters, looking down at his fingers. Blood is already beginning to dry beneath his nails. He goes into the bathroom, scrubbing his fingers a little more roughly than he should. He sighs again. Runs a towel under the faucet, pressing it to the back of his neck. He puts a band-aid on the scrape. Hangs up the towel. Goes back into the bedroom. Waits.

A few minutes later there’s a knock at the front door. Edward practically leaps up from the bed, hurrying into the living room to open it. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Jonathan murmurs. He takes a few steps into the house. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m okay. I’m just… having a rough night, I guess.” He closes the door. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“It’s fine.” He presses a quick kiss to Edward’s forehead. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“You just want company?”

“Yeah.” He wraps his arms around Jonathan’s waist. Leans his head against his chest.

“Okay.” He feels Jonathan’s arms around him, one hand twisting into his hair. “Do you want me to make tea?” he murmurs.

He bites his lower lip. “Can you actually make me something else?”

“What would you like?”

He almost doesn’t want to ask. “Don’t tease me,” he mumbles.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Can you… can you make me hot cocoa?” He cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth. It sounds so childish. The word “cocoa” itself sounds like something an infant would say because its brain hasn’t developed enough to understand real words. “I have a mix in the cabinet, you can just add water.”

“Sure.” Jonathan kisses the side of his head, letting go of him. “Which cabinet?”

“Far left. It’s in a jar.”

Jonathan goes into the kitchen, opening up the cabinet and taking out the aforementioned jar. It’s a homemade mix. Store-bought ones leave a bad texture in his mouth. He cannot _stand_ bad textures.

Jonathan turns on the faucet, filling the kettle with water. He puts it on the stove to boil, opening another cabinet to find a mug. “Do you have a preference?”

“The green one. It should be in front.”

He sets the green mug on the counter, scooping some of the light brown powder into it. “That enough?” he asks, tilting it to show Edward.

He nods. “Thank you,” he says quietly.

“Don’t mention it.” He leans against the counter. “Tell me about your day.”

“Do you actually want to know?”

“I want to know if you want to tell me.”

“I… I got some work done. I’m designing a computer program that should make it easier to cross reference footage from multiple surveillance cameras.” He shrugs. “I don’t really _need_ to do that, but why not, y’know? And then I got groceries and then—oh! You’ll never guess who I saw while I was out.”

“Who did you see?”

“One of the Bat-brats! The oldest one. He was coming out of a Starbucks with some girl who was _definitely_ out of his league. Tall, red hair, very good skin. You know, I really thought he was gay.”

“They could just be friends.”

“They were holding hands.” He taps his lips with an index finger. “Perhaps he’s bisexual or something. There is no way that boy is straight.”

“You don’t think anyone is straight.”

“If straight people get to believe that everyone is straight until proven otherwise, I get to believe that no one is.” He grins. “Besides, I’m usually right about this sort of thing.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Sure you are.”

“I was right about you.”

“That was a coincidence.”

The kettle starts to whistle, indicating that the water is boiled. Jonathan turns the stove off.  He pours the hot water into the mug, stirring it. Counterclockwise. Good.

“Jonathan?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you for coming over. I… I’m glad you’re here.”

Jonathan smiles softly, pressing the warm mug into his hands. Kisses the top of his head. “I hope it’s alright,” he says, pointing to the mug.

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be. It’s pretty foolproof.” He takes a sip. Smiles.

“Good?”

“Perfect.”


	25. Chapter 25

“You fucking liar.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I feel like a fucking idiot for believing you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so—” Jonathan gags, shoving his head down into the toilet bowl as he vomits again. He coughs. Spits. “I’m so sorry, Ed.”

“That’s not good enough,” he snaps. His eyes are raw and red and swollen. He feels stupid for crying. He feels so _stupid_. “You should’ve… why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Thought you’d be mad.”

“I _am_ mad! But I wouldn’t have been if you’d just _told_ me, Jonathan!”

“I’m sorry.” He wipes his mouth, leaning away from the toilet. His head thuds dully against the wall. He doesn’t seem to feel it.

“How long?” he asks quietly.

“Edward…”

“Tell me how long.”

“…Just a week.”

Edward digs his fingernails into his palm. “If you’re lying to me again I swear to God—”

“I’m not lying. Promise.” He groans. “Fuck. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop,” he mutters. “Stop saying that.”

“Edward—”

“I _trusted_ you,” he mumbles. “You told me you were clean and I believed you because I trust you but now… God _damn_ it Jonathan, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I don’t know.” He rubs his eyes with the heel of his palm. His hands are shaking. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Fuck you,” he hisses.

“I love you.”

His heart stops. Oh God. He can barely breathe. “You’re high.”

“I’m—I love you.”

He shakes his head, pressing his palms against his ears. “No you don’t, you’re high, you’re fucking high.”

“Edward—”

“Fuck you! You’re not—you can’t _do_ that to me!” He feels tears well in his eyes and he bites back a sob. “You can’t just say you love me and expect everything to go back to normal.” He shakes his head again, pushing his fingers through his hair. “You don’t love me. You just want me to forgive you.”

“Edward please, I—”

“Stop.” He gets up from the floor. Tries to keep his voice steady. “I’m going to bed. Clean yourself up. You can sleep on the couch. I… we’ll talk once you’ve come down.” He leaves the bathroom without another word, slamming the door behind him. Collapses onto his bed. He pulls his knees against his chest. Squeezes his eyes shut.

He should’ve known better.


	26. Chapter 26

“How are you feeling?”

“Bad.” Jonathan rubs his eyes, sighing. “I’m sorry. For everything.”

“I know.” Edward sits down across from him at the table. Pushes a cup of coffee towards him. “No milk, three sugars.”

“Thank you.” He takes a sip. “Fuck, that’s good,” he mumbles. Takes another sip. “Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Do you… do you still like me?” He stares down at the cup in his hands. “I understand if you don’t anymore, I mean, after what I did… I understand if you don’t want to do this anymore.”

Edward sips his own drink. Mint tea. Caffeine makes him anxious. “Of course I still like you,” he mutters. “But… you can’t keep doing this, Jonathan.”

“I’m trying to be better,” he mumbles. “I promise, I’m trying, but… it’s so fucking hard sometimes.”

“I know.”

He takes a gulp of his coffee. Doesn’t look at Edward. He looks exhausted. Runs his fingers through his hair. “I’m going to quit,” he says quietly. “I promise. I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”

“How long do you think the withdrawal will last?”

“Not long. Probably about a week. The worst of it should pass in a few days.”

“I think…” He takes a deep breath. “I think you should stay here for a little while.”

Jonathan finally looks up at him. Edward can’t quite read his expression. It’s somewhere between confusion and hope and… something else. “Stay here?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I’d feel better knowing for sure that you’re not… that you’re okay.”

“Oh.” His gaze returns to his drink. “You just want to keep an eye on me.”

“Can you blame me?”

“No. Not really.” He clears his throat. “Edward?”

“Yes?”

“Are you going to leave me?” His voice is barely more than a whisper. He sounds so tired and sad and… scared. His fingers are trembling.

“No. I’m not.” He gets up from his chair, going to Jonathan’s side of the table. “Look at me.”

He does. Edward lifts a hand to his chin, tilting Jonathan’s face up to his to kiss him. “I’m here for you,” he murmurs, kissing him again. “I want you to know that.”

“Thank you. And… I’m sorry.” He swallows, lowering his eyes again. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“I know.” He presses his lips against his forehead. “It’ll be okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is bad whoops sorry im too sad to write good things


	27. Chapter 27

Edward feels Jonathan press his face into the curve of his neck, his arm wrapping tightly around his waist. He’s impossibly warm, his hair damp with sweat. A fever, most likely. At least it’s not contagious.

“Jonathan?” he murmurs, still a little groggy.

He mumbles something unintelligible against his skin, followed by a quick kiss.

“Jon, you okay?”

“Cold.”

“I think you have a fever.”

He groans, rolling over onto his back. “Figures.”

“Is there anything I can get you?”

“Ibuprofen?”

“Sure.” He gets out of bed, shuffling into the bathroom. He takes the small bottle of Advil out of the cabinet, shaking two tablets into his palm. Puts the bottle back. He then goes into the kitchen, fills a glass with water, and heads back to the bedroom. “Here,” he says, holding the pills out to Jonathan. He sets the glass on the nightstand.

Jonathan swallows both pills dry. Rolls over onto his stomach.

“Drink the water.”

“Not thirsty.”

“You of all people should know that you need to drink fluids when you have a fever.”

Another groan. He sits up, wincing a little. He downs most of the glass in one go, putting it back on the nightstand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Need anything else while I’m up?”

He shakes his head, burrowing beneath the blankets.

“Okay.” He gets back into bed, draping one arm over Jonathan’s torso. “Try to get some rest.”

“Mhm.” He turns onto his side, pressing his back against Edward’s chest. “Sorry I woke you up.”

“Don’t be.” He kisses the nape of his neck. “How long does this sort of thing usually last?”

“Two or three days.”

“That’s not so bad,” he murmurs. “Like a mini flu.”

“Yeah.” He shifts slightly, bringing his knees closer to his chest. “Can I ask you somethin’?”

“Sure.”

“Why’re you doin’ all this?”

Edward can hear him slipping back into his old accent. He must be exhausted. He decides not to mention it. “Because I want to help.”

“Last time someone said that I ended up in Arkham.”

“Are you implying you don’t trust me?”

“If I didn’t trust you I wouldn’t be here.”

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t,” he murmurs. Kisses the back of his head. “Get some sleep.”

“I’ll try.”


	28. Chapter 28

Edward frowns at his laptop, scrolling through a document Oswald had emailed him. Blueprints. It should be easy enough to build, but… he wonders what Oswald needs with a weapon like that. He’s probably going to sell it, but Edward can’t imagine anyone who both needs and can afford such an item. He quickly types out a reply, scanning it for grammatical errors before sending it.

Jonathan shuffles into the living room. “Hey,” he mumbles, his voice still heavy with sleep.

“Hi.”

“What time is it?”

“Two o’clock.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Mhm.” He saves the document, closing out of his email. “I considered waking you, but I figured you needed the extra sleep.”

“Jesus Christ.” He rubs his eyes, sitting heavily on the couch beside Edward. “I’m still tired.”

Edward closes his laptop. “You’re always tired.” He sets it on the table, patting his leg. “Do you want to lie down?”

He nods, resting his head in Edward’s lap. Closes his eyes.

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

He rolls his eyes. “Besides that.”

“Bad,” he grumbles.

“Anything I can do?”

“Talk to me.”

“Is there anything in particular you would like me to say?”

“Just… distract me.”

Edward thinks for a moment, his hand moving to twist into Jonathan’s hair. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I suppose.”

“Do you remember when we met?”

“Vaguely.”

“What did you think of me?” he asks tentatively. He hates to take advantage of Jonathan’s weakened state, but he doesn’t think he’d be able to get a legitimate answer out of him under normal circumstances.

“I thought you were loud and annoying.”

“Oh.” That isn’t what he wanted to hear.

“You weren’t what I expected.”

Interesting. “Oh?”

“I thought you would be taller.”

“Asshole.”

He grins. “Kidding. I wasn’t expecting you to be so… charismatic.”

“You just said I was annoying.”

“You were. Charisma annoys me.”

“Of course it does.” He massages his scalp gently, a smile spreading across his lips as Jonathan leans into his hand. “Did you think I was attractive?”

“Not the first time I met you, no. It didn’t really occur to me.” He sighs softly, his lips parting slightly. “Keep doing that,” he mumbles.

“I intend to.”

“What about you? What did you think of me?”

“Well, I’d researched you extensively before we met, so I had a decent idea of what to expect.”

“Mm.”

“I thought you were very interesting to look at.”

“Explain.”

“Your features are… they don’t look like they would go together.” He frowns down at Jonathan. “Your nose and overall face shape is very angular,” he murmurs, running one finger down the bridge of his nose. “But your mouth is a much softer shape. And your eyes… When you were younger, did girls compliment your eyes?”

“No.”

“What about boys?”

“I’m sure if any boys liked my eyes they made sure to keep it to themselves.”

“I love your eyes,” he murmurs. “The color is incredible.”

“People usually say they’re creepy.”

“They can be a bit unsettling, depending on the lighting and whatnot. But I think they’re…” He can’t think of the right word. Pretty doesn’t really cover it, beautiful is overkill. Striking and piercing are both too cliché. Unique? God, that’s even worse. He clears his throat.  “It’s also very interesting to see the contrast between your hair and eyes. And your hair and skin.” He taps Jonathan’s cheek absently. “I’d be interested to see what your parents looked like to see how you ended up with this specific combination of features.”

“Edward, I’m touched that you want to meet my parents, but don’t you think we’re moving too fast? I mean, we’ve never even had a real date.”

“Oh, shut up.” He flicks Jonathan’s forehead.

“Ow.”

“That can’t possibly have hurt.”

“If I get a bruise from that—”

“It’s not going to bruise, don’t be silly.”

“I bruise easily.”

Edward grins down at him, gently rubbing the spot where he’d flicked him. “You’re so delicate.”

“I’m anemic you dick.”

“Oh. Sorry. Would you like me to kiss it and make it better?”

Jonathan rolls onto his side, pressing his face against Edward’s stomach. “Fuck off.”


	29. Chapter 29

“This is it?”

“This is it. I took the liberty of modifying the design a little, but the essential parts are all there.” Edward slides the sleek briefcase across the table towards Oswald.

Oswald turns it toward himself, undoing the latches. Raises the lid. His lips stretch into a smile, exposing his small, sharp teeth. “Brilliant work as always, Edward.”

“Only the best for you, my friend.”

He closes the case again. “I’m sure my buyer will be very pleased.” He hands Edward a thick manila envelope. “Thank you for doing this on such short notice. There’s a little extra in there, just as a token of my appreciation.”

“Oh, Ozzie, you didn’t have to do that.” He sifts through the envelope, counting quickly. Grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.” He checks his watch. “It feels like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“I’ve been in Arkham. I meant to call, really, I’m sorry I didn’t. I’ve just been so caught up with work and managing my own… _issues_ , I suppose. And then there’s… then there’s Jonathan.”

“Jonathan?”

“Yes. He’s…” He waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t want to waste your time with this.”

Oswald shrugs. “I’ve got time to kill. We could go somewhere, if you want. I’d love to hear what you’ve been up to.”

Edward bites the tip of his thumb. “Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Ozzie.”

“Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> unrelated side note: oswald is also jewish i don't make the rules folks 
> 
> also srry i've literally never written with penguin before so i barely know how to characterize him whoopsie


	30. Chapter 30

“Every time I look at him I am reminded of how gay I truly am.”

Oswald snorts, covering his mouth with his hand. “How romantic.”

“Well it’s true.” Edward sighs, stirring his lemonade with a straw. “He’s been staying at my place for the past few days and it’s so… it’s nice having him around. Even though he hasn’t been feeling well lately.”

“Is he sick or just depressed?”

“Neither. Or both, I suppose. It’s withdrawal.”

“Oh. I thought he was clean?”

“He was. He relapsed.” He lowers his eyes. “I have a lot of respect for him but sometimes he does the dumbest, most self destructive shit.”

Oswald scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Listen, if you’re not willing to deal with self destructive bullshit you should not be dating him.”

“We’re not dating exactly.”

“He’s staying in your house recovering from a drug addiction and you’re _not_ dating?”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s always complicated when you’re involved.”

He sticks his tongue out at Oswald, stealing one of his onion rings.

Oswald swats his hand away. “Seriously though, how are you holding up?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re pretty much taking care of Jonathan. That must be hard on you.”

“I… it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.” He shrugs. “Addict or not, he’s a self sufficient adult. Granted, he was stuck in bed for the first couple days, but he’s doing better now. I’m mostly providing emotional support at this point.”

“And what about him, is he treating you well?”

“Of course.”

“You sure? Just say the word and I’ll have him killed for you.”

“That won’t be necessary. Believe it or not, he’s actually quite nice to me.” He takes a sip of his drink. “He’s quite nice to all the people he likes. He just likes very few people.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. He’s… I _really_ like him, Ozzie.”

“Really? I couldn’t tell.”

He takes another sip, flipping Oswald off. “Listen, I’m overwhelmed with gay feelings and I need to express them or else I will surely explode. Sue me.”

“Don’t you usually talk to Selina about this shit?”

He shakes his head. “Selina… she doesn’t like Jonathan and I don’t want to make her mad at me so I’ve just… stopped talking about him.” He sighs, staring down at his drink. “I suppose it’s not really a big deal, but… I miss being able to talk about guys with her.” He glances back up at Oswald. “Sorry. I know you don’t really care about this sort of thing.”

“I don’t mind.” He gestures to the onion rings. “Want the rest?”

“Sure.”

He pushes the paper tray towards Edward. “What do you like about him?”

“He’s smart,” he responds automatically. It’s what he always tells people. A perfectly reasonable answer that doesn’t reveal anything in particular about his personality or values. And it’s true. It’s also vague. “He’s kind, when he wants to be. And… surprisingly affectionate. And he indulges me, which few people do, so…” He trails off. “Ozzie?”

“Yeah?”

“He… he said he loved me.”

“No shit, really?”

“Yes, but it was under extenuating circumstances and I’m not sure if he meant it and he hasn’t said it since and I’m too nervous to bring it up.”

“Extenuating circumstances?”

“He was, shall we say, under the influence.”

“Ah. Did you say it back?”

“No, I… yelled at him a little.”

“Gee, I wonder why he never brought it up again.”

He bites his lower lip. “Shit, Ozzie, did I fuck everything up?”

“Probably not. I mean, you’re literally living together, I think you’d be able to tell if he was pissed or something.”

“ _Temporarily_ living together,” he corrects.

“Whatever.”

“What if he meant it?” he asks hesitantly.

“Wouldn’t that be a good thing?”

“I don’t know, it’s never happened before!”

“No one’s ever said they love you?”

“No one’s ever _meant_ it.”

Oswald groans. “Jesus Christ, you’re melodramatic.”

“Fuck off, I’m having a crisis.”

“Your ‘crisis’ is that a guy that you like and have been seeing for _months_ said that he loved you.” He rolls his eyes. “You’re adults, Ed. Adults love each other sometimes.”

He shakes his head, taking an onion ring. “That sounds very unrealistic.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters again. “If it’s bothering you so much, just _talk_ to him.”

Edward scowls. “I knew you were going to say that,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, because it’s common sense. Get some.”

“I’ll pass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i spent an entire day working on this and i still don't like it
> 
> also school starts today so i might not be updating as frequently


	31. Chapter 31

“Are you going out tonight?”

Edward nods, searching through his closet for a suit jacket. “Going to the Iceberg. I’m going to meet Oswald there.” He holds a dark green silk jacket against his torso, turning to face Jonathan. “What do you think of this?”

“It’s nice. Give Oswald my regards.”

He puts the jacket back, selecting another. “You could come with me. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“I’m not feeling very well. Think I’m just going to try to get some rest. Thanks, though.”

“Of course. There’s leftovers in the fridge. You should eat them.” He glances at his reflection in the mirror. Frowns. Puts the jacket back.

“Okay.” He sits down on the edge of the bed. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“Black shirt instead of white.”

“Ohh, of _course_.” How did he not think of that? He takes a black button up out of his closet, unbuttoning his shirt. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

He puts on the black shirt, reaching back into the closet for a jacket. He holds the dark green one against himself again. Much better. He slips it on. Turns toward Jonathan. “Call if you need anything.”

“Of course.”

“Try to eat.”

He nods. “I will.”

“Try to sleep.”

“I will.”

“Call if you need anything.”

“You already said that.”

“It didn’t sound right the first time.”

“Ah.”

Edward goes over to him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Bye.”

“Bye. Have fun.”

“I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short lil somethin'


	32. Chapter 32

Edward stumbles up the front steps, clutching his side. Blood stains his fingers, his clothes. His head hurts. His whole body hurts. Scrapes and bruises and burns cover his skin. His suit is ruined. Great.

He groans, slumping against the wall beside the front door. He raises his arm, pounding his fist against the door. Winces. Open the door, open the door, _please_ open the—

The door swings open. “Oh thank _God_.”

“Hi,” Edward rasps.

“Come inside.” Jonathan steps out of the doorway, allowing Edward to stagger into the house. “Are you alright?”

“Do I look alright?”

“You look awful.”

“I guarantee you I feel worse.” He lies down on the couch, curling up in a ball on his side. Blood starts to seep into the couch cushions. He doesn’t care. He’ll care in the morning.

Jonathan kneels beside him, opening the first aid kit. Takes out a roll of medical tape and gauze, setting them on the table. “I thought you were dead.”

“Really?”

“I saw what happened on the news and… you weren’t answering your phone.”

“Oh.” He resists the urge to smile. Jonathan was worried about him.

Jonathan clears his throat. “I’m going to need you to get undressed.”

“Sexy.”

“Oh, be quiet. Take your shirt off at least.”

“Hurts to move.”

“I know. But if I can’t see the damage then there’s not a lot I can do.”

He groans, shifting painfully onto his back. “I want to sleep.”

“You can sleep after. Please?”

He scrunches his face up, but doesn’t stop Jonathan from unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it aside as much as he can. “Ozzie’s pissed about the lounge.”

“Do you know who planted the bomb?”

“Not for sure, no.”

“How close were you to the explosion?” he murmurs, beginning to clean one of his wounds with disinfectant.

“Not very.” He hisses as the liquid touches his skin. “That stings.”

“Sorry. Did you hit your head?”

“Yeah.”

“Any dizziness?” He places a piece of gauze over the scrape, securing it with medical tape.

“A little.”

Jonathan pushes Edward’s shirt aside little more, taking care not to disturb any of his injuries. Frowns down at a large burn covering his left side. “How’s your vision?”

“Fine. It hurts to move my eyes.”

“Mm.” He gets up, going into the kitchen. Takes a towel off the rack, holding it under the sink.

“Don’t use that one. Use the black one.”

He replaces the towel, taking the black one down instead. Runs it under the faucet, squeezing out the excess water. Returns to Edward. He presses the damp cloth against his skin, taking an antibiotic out of the first aid kit. “Cool water and aloe,” he mumbles, somewhat absently. “Don’t use ice, you’ll damage your skin.”

He rolls his eyes, ignoring the twinge of pain that accompanies the movement. “Just because I didn’t go to medical school doesn’t mean I don’t know how to treat a minor burn.”

“I’d hardly call this minor.”

“I’ve had worse.”

“Doesn’t make it minor.” He dabs the antibiotic over the wound. Turns his attention to Edward’s leg. He peels back a section of blood soaked fabric, exposing a large gash in his thigh. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters.

Edward starts to sit up, groaning loudly. “How bad is it?”

“Lie down. It’s… this might need stitches.” He sighs, rummaging around in the box.

“What a pain. Literally.”

“You’re not funny, you know.” He wipes away most of the blood surrounding the cut, disinfecting it as well.

“Fuck off, I’m hilarious.”

“I’m glad you think so.” He threads the needle, glancing up at Edward. “I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you this is going to hurt a bit.”

“I know.”

“Do you want a drink? It’ll help with the pain.”

“I’ve already had two drinks.”

“Do you want a third?”

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blech i don't like this 
> 
> ap psych is kicking my ass folks but im a whole week ahead on notes so i cranked out this thing but i don't like it >:( i'm sure it's fine and i'm just being overly critical but like :/


	33. Chapter 33

“How are you feeling?”

Edward shrugs, burying his face in Jonathan’s chest.

“Tired?”

He nods.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not excruciating.” He reaches for Jonathan’s hand beneath the blankets, lacing their fingers together. “How about you?”

“I’m alright.” Jonathan moves his free hand to trace small circles over Edward’s lower back.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. Been feeling better.”

“Good.” He lifts his head slightly, pressing his lips to his throat.

“I, um… I was planning to go home today.”

“Oh.” Right. Jonathan had only been planning to stay with him until his withdrawal symptoms lessened. He tries to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“I can stay longer if you need me to.” He clears his throat. “Because you’re hurt.”

Edward doesn’t say anything. He can take care of himself. Jonathan knows he can take care of himself. He’s not weak. He doesn’t want him to think he’s weak. But he’s gotten so used to having him around all the time and it’s actually quite nice being able to come home to someone and he’s not sure he wants to give that up just for the sake of his pride.

He’s given up a lot just for the sake of his pride.

“Edward?”

“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” he mumbles, resting his head against Jonathan’s chest again.

“Do _you_ want me to?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“I think it does,” he says softly.

“I can take care of myself.”

“I’m well aware. Do you want me to stay anyway?”

“…Yes.”

Jonathan’s hand finds its way into Edward’s hair, fingertips gently pressing against his scalp. “Okay,” he murmurs. “Then I’ll stay.”

“Thanks.”


	34. Chapter 34

“I love you.”

Jonathan stirs in his sleep, his face scrunching up slightly. Tightens his grip on Edward’s waist.

“I love you,” he whispers again, smoothing Jonathan’s hair away from his forehead as gently as possible. Marvels at how soft it is. His hair isn’t usually soft. He must have washed it recently. It’s nice. He could have lovely hair if he simply put a little effort in.

Edward’s gaze shifts to his face. Even in the dark, he can make out the faint scar running along his cheekbone. He can make out the deep, grey circles beneath his eyes. A small scab on his lip.

God, he’s beautiful.

He’s never considered Jonathan to be traditionally attractive. He isn’t. He’s gaunt and pale and perpetually disheveled. But he’s _so_ beautiful. And it’s completely unintentional. Inexplicable. He’s beautiful in a way that Edward isn’t.

“I love you,” he says a third time. He needs to keep practicing until it’s right. Until it’s perfect. It _has_ to be perfect.

Jonathan moves suddenly, rolling over onto his other side with a groan. He brings his knees to his chest, burrowing further beneath the covers. He whimpers almost imperceptibly. Clutches tightly at the blankets.

Edward presses closer to him, kissing the back of his head. “Love you,” he murmurs into his hair. Wraps an arm around his thin frame.

He makes a small noise in the back of his throat. Sighs as Edward’s fingers find their way beneath his shirt, trailing over his stomach. He relaxes against his chest. Stills.

Edward nestles against Jonathan’s back, letting his eyes fall closed. He exhales softly.

It’s nice to be in love again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly??? goals


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: i don't like this chapter oops

“Relax your shoulders.”

“They are relaxed.”

“That’s what you call relaxed?”

“Fuck off.”

Edward grins, bending down to kiss the back of Jonathan’s head. Finishes shading a doodle of a squid on the nape of his neck. “Perhaps after this I’ll have to massage you.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Edward rolls his eyes, outlining a small star around one of Jonathan’s scars. “I wish I had more pens,” he mutters. “These would look nicer if they had more colors than just blue and black.”

“I’m sure they’re nice enough,” he says, shifting slightly beneath Edward.

“Maybe I could do paint next time. Though, I’m not as good with paintbrushes as I am with pens.” He starts on a drawing of a snake just under his shoulder blade. A ball python, specifically. They’re cute. Easy to draw.

“Will you do my arm next?”

“Sure.” He sticks his tongue out a little, mimicking the snake. “Can you tell what I’m drawing based on how it feels?”

“No. But I’m also not paying close attention.”

He adds the snake’s markings. Fills them in with ink. “Did you get dinner?”

“Mhm. Italian. From the place you like.”

He smiles to himself. “Thank you.”

“Sure.”

Edward finishes the python, leaning back to admire his work. He always did like drawing. He only ever learned how so he could impress people, but it is sort of relaxing. In a way. He presses a kiss to Jonathan’s shoulder before relinquishing his seat atop his legs. “Turn over please.”

He does, holding his arm out to Edward. The left.

He frowns. “This one?”

“Yes.”

“But you said—”

“It doesn’t matter what I said.”

His eyes rake over Jonathan’s forearm. There are new marks now. A second trail of grey branches out from a small puncture wound surrounded by a faded, yellow bruise. Against his better judgment, he allows his fingertips to brush over the discolored skin. Allows his touch to linger over the scars. It’s disgustingly self indulgent.

“Edward, I don’t have all day.”

“Sorry.” He moves his hand. Clears his throat. “Any requests?”

He shrugs. “Whatever you like.”

He nods absently. Chews the end of the pen. Decides. He sets to work, starting with a small circle around one of the marks. “That doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No.”

“Okay.” He begins to form the outline of a flower. A cherry blossom.

Jonathan’s eyes are fixed on him, watching him intently. “You’re quite good at that, you know.”

He can’t help but beam at that. “I’m aware.”

“Self taught?”

“Mhm. I picked it up as a way to attract girls.”

“You don’t even like girls.”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t like me.”

Jonathan rolls his eyes. “Edward Nygma, certified lothario.”

“Oh, shut up.” He adds two more flowers, moving to work on the branch. “It was more fun than trying to get boys to like me.”

“More fun?”

“More of a challenge.”

“I see.”

“But that changed after… high school, I suppose.” He pauses, biting the inside of his cheek. “It’s easier with women now.”

“Why do you even want women to like you?” Jonathan asks.

“Attention.”

“Ah.”

“Does that make me a bad person?” he mumbles, lowering his eyes. “I mean, trying to make people like me even though I have no interest in them?”

“I don’t think I’m the person to ask.”

They’re silent for a little while after that. Edward finishes sketching and shading the flowers. He collects his pens, placing them on the bedside table. Taps Jonathan’s arm lightly to indicate that he’s done. “Do you like it?”

He lifts his arm, twisting it slightly to get a better look. “I do. You’re very talented.”

Edward hums appreciatively, curling up beside Jonathan on the bed. Wraps an arm around his waist.

Jonathan leans over to kiss his forehead, squeezing his forearm gently. “How’s your leg today?”

“Better. Painkillers help.”

“Good.”

Edward rests his head just below Jonathan’s chin, pressing his face against his bare chest. He bites his lip, heart pounding uncomfortably in his throat. “Can I tell you something?”

“Sure.”

“I love you.”

The silence that follows is deafening.


	36. Chapter 36

Stupid piece of shit. Talk to him. Go talk to him. It doesn’t matter if he says it. It doesn’t matter if—talk to him. He might—He might not be—God _damn_ it. Stupid piece of shit.

Tell someone. Oswald. Selina. The girls. Someone. Selina would know what to do but… She’ll just say to break up with him. Maybe—no. She will. That’s how she is. And that’s fine but… Fuck. Idiot.

He needs attention. Validation. Desperately. Needs to know that someone—He thought he _did_ know, though. He always knows. But, then again, he never can _tell_ with Jonathan. He always thinks he knows and then he doesn’t but he never fucking _learns_.

Talk to him.

Stupid piece of shit, just _talk_ to him.

He said it before. Granted, he was—but he _said_ it. He _did_ say it.

He was so sure, too. That might be what hurts the most. He didn’t even consider—well, he did, but he thought that was just the usual irrational self doubt. He thought—He didn’t think. That’s the problem. He wasn’t thinking. Stupid fucking piece of shit.

“Edward.”

Oh God.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry my updates are sad but that's just how it be sometimes ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


	37. Chapter 37

He’s been smoking. That much is obvious. It’s disgusting. Edward has always found it disgusting. Still, he doesn’t mind when Jonathan’s tongue snakes over his lower lip. He doesn’t mind when his hands creep up the back of his shirt. When his fingernails dig desperately into his skin. He doesn’t mind. He can put up with the smell and the taste, as long as it means he can have this. He can put up with a lot for this.

He gasps as Jonathan’s teeth dig into his lip. Harder than usual. Edward pulls back instinctively, before allowing himself to be kissed again. Softly. He feels Jonathan’s mumbled apology against his mouth more than he actually hears it. Feels the pads of his fingers pressing against his back, massaging away the indentations his nails had left. He moves to nip gently at Edward’s earlobe. Presses a quick kiss against his jaw

“Is this alright?” Jonathan murmurs, his breath warm against the side of Edward’s face.

He nods, bringing his hands to Jonathan’s hips. Slips his fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans. “Don’t stop,” he says quietly. “Please.”

Jonathan doesn’t have to love him. He can be happy with just this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like any of my writing lately blech


	38. Chapter 38

Edward wakes with a start, gasping desperately for air. His hands move to claw at his scalp, fingers tugging at fistfuls of hair. He swallows back a sob. Presses his face into the pillow beneath him. His heart pounds in his chest.

It wasn’t his usual type of nightmare.

He feels a cool hand come to rest upon his own, gently prying his fingers away from his head. Feels a palm against his cheek. “You shouldn’t do that, you know.”

“I’m sorry.” Edward leans into Jonathan’s touch, trying to steady his breathing.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

He reaches for Jonathan’s face in the dark, tracing the curve of his lower lip with his index finger. Taps his mouth twice in an unspoken request.

Jonathan leans forward enough to kiss him, ruffling his hair slightly. “Cute,” he murmurs.

“That’s gay.”

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, but… _we’re_ gay, Edward.”

He feigns a gasp. “Impossible.”

Jonathan laughs softly, pulling Edward against his chest. Presses a quick kiss against his temple. He makes a small noise in the back of his throat, grasping at the fabric of Jonathan’s shirt.

“Edward?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry. About earlier. I…” He clears his throat. “I’m sorry I couldn’t say what you wanted me to.”

“Oh.” He had been hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t—I mean, you must know that I—”

“You don’t have to say it,” he mumbles into Jonathan’s neck. “I told you, it’s fine.”

He’s silent for a few moments, fingers twisting absently in Edward’s hair. He can feel Jonathan’s breathing against his chest. Quick. Shallow. Anxiety or just bad lungs? Probably both, if he’s being realistic. He really should quit smoking.

“I don’t know why I can’t say it,” Jonathan says finally. “I guess I just… never learned. I’m sorry.”

But he _did_ say it. He said it before so why can’t he just—  

“I understand,” he murmurs. And he does. In a way.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is almost irrelevant

“You should eat something.”

Jonathan says nothing, his eyes fixed on his book. Gestures to the half empty bag of chips perched atop a pillow beside him.

“You should eat some real food,” Edward clarifies.

He shrugs. Turns a page.

“Jonathan.”

“Not hungry.”

“You’re eating right now.”

“That’s why I’m not hungry.”

Edward sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I make you something and place it within arm’s reach, will you eat it?”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I want you to eat.”

“I _am_ eating.”

“ _Jonathan_.”

He finally looks up from his book. “Fine. I’m sorry,” he says softly. Folds the page corner over to mark his place. Edward frowns. He hates when he does that. Just use a Goddamn bookmark.

“It’s fine. Do you want me to make something for you?”

“No, I can do it.”

“Okay.” He picks up the chip bag, rolling the top up and securing it with a rubber band. “I’m confiscating these.”

“That’s probably for the best.” His gaze is trained on Edward, though he doesn’t seem to actually see him. He unfolds the page corner. Slips a torn strip of paper into the book instead. “How’s your leg?” he asks after a moment.

“Fine, why?”

“Just curious.”


	40. Chapter 40

He’d forgotten how empty the house could feel.

Edward rolls onto his back, staring dully up at the ceiling. He can’t sleep. Again. He’s gotten too used to sleeping with someone else and now he can’t manage to sleep alone. Brilliant.

Jonathan went home. Which was to be expected. After all, they had only planned to live together for a little while. Until they got better. But now Jonathan is clean and Edward’s leg is healed and everything is back to normal. And he’s alone. He’s alone in his house unable to sleep because he couldn’t bring himself to ask him to stay. Because he didn’t want to risk hearing him say no. He’s alone. And everything is back to normal.

His phone vibrates. Text message. He opens it, squinting at the harsh light permeating the dark room.

_Come over._

He props himself up on his elbow, trying to ignore how relieved he feels. Tries not to seem too eager in his response. _Miss me already?_

_Yes._

He… wasn’t expecting that. _Oh?_

_Just shut up and come over._

That’s more like it. He smiles. Types out a quick reply. _Be there in a bit._ His thumb hovers tentatively over the keyboard for a few moments. He bites his lip. Types.

_Love you._

Send.

He tosses his phone aside, rummaging through his bedside table for his keys and wallet. He debates whether or not to put on real clothes, but ultimately decides Jonathan won’t care and he can’t be bothered. And anything he put on would probably just end up on the floor of Jonathan’s bedroom anyway so, really, what’s the point? Besides, his pajamas are cute.

He hears his phone buzz from its place on the bed. His stomach lurches. He genuinely wasn’t expecting a response. He almost doesn’t want to look. Doesn’t want to risk seeing something he won’t like. He knows he won’t like it. Whatever it is. He knows that. He shouldn’t look.

He picks the phone up. Opens the text.

_Likewise._

And everything is back to normal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woop this story ended up being way longer than i ever intended (why can i never write something short and meaningful???????)
> 
> but yeah this is the end?? I mean i'll probably be cranking out some new shit in like a week and like i'm a sucker for AU's n stuff so who knows what I'll come up with next. 
> 
> idk if y'all have any ideas or requests or w/e hmu it helps motivate me
> 
> thanks for reading!!


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